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SHARSPERE 

Personal R,ecollections 



BY 

COLONEL JOHN A. JOYCE 

Author of "Checkered Life," "Peculiar Poems," "Zig- 
Zag," "Jewels of Memory," "Complete Poems," 
"Oliver Goldsmith," "Edgar Allan Poe" "Brick- 
bats and Bouquets," "Beautiful Washing- 
ton," "Songs," etc. 



Nations unborn, adown the tides of time 
Shall keep thy name and fame and thought sublime, 
And o'er the rolling world from age to age 
Thy characters shall thrill the mimic stage! 

— ^JOYCE. 




PUBLISHED BY BROADWAY 
PUBLISHING COMPANY 
83s BROADWAY, NEW YORK 






LIBRaKY (,< CON(iP?ESS 
Two Copies Received 

MAR 17 1904 

■>, Cf»pyriKht fcrf-itry 
CLASS OL XXc, No. 




' » " • • 



Copyrighted, in 1904. 
BY 

COLONEL JOHN A. JOYCE. 



Alt Rights Reserved. 



» • • V • 

• • • 

* • « « 



, ♦ • ' e. * 






CO 



DEDICATION. 

I dedicate this hoolc to the reader who has 
energy enough to borrow it, bullion enough to buy 
it, and brains enough to understand its philosophy, 
with the fervent hope that posterity may reap, 
thresh and consume the golden grain of my literary 
harvest, J. A. J. 



^ 
■■*?! 






PREFACE. 

It would be a flagrant presumption and a speci- 
men of magnificent audacity for any man, but my- 
self, to attempt to give anything new about the 
personal and literary character of William Shak- 
spere ! 

I speak of William as I knew him, child, boy 
and man, from a spiritual standpoint, living with 
him in soul-lit love for three hundred and forty 
years ! 

Those who doubt my dates, facts and veracity 
are to be pitied, and have little appreciation of 
romantic poetry, comedy, tragedy and history! 

It is well known among my intimate friends, 
that I sprang from the race of Strulbugs, who 
live forever, originating on the island of Immor- 
tality, on the coast of Japan — ^more than a million 
years ago. 

I do not give the name of the play, act or scene, 
in head or foot lines, in my numerous quotations 
from Shakspere, designedly leaving the reader to 



p~' 



Preface 

trace and find for himself a liberal education by 
stud3ring the wisdom of the Divine Bard. 

There are many things in this volume that the 
ordinary mind will not understand, yet I only 
contract with the present and future generations 
to give rare and rich food for thought, and cannot 
undertake to furnish the reader brains with each 
book! J. A. J. 



CONTENTS. 

Page 
■Sweepstakes , , ix 

CHAPTER I. 
Birth. School Da js. Shows 1 

CHAPTER n. 
Launched. Apprentice Boy. Ambition 11 

CHAPTER ni. 
Farm Life. Sporting. Poaching on Lucy 19 

CHAPTER IV. 
In Search of Peace and Fortune 27 

CHAPTER V. 
London. Its Guilt and Glory 37 

CHAPTER VL 
Taverns. Theatres. Variegated Society 45 

CHAPTER VIL 
Theatrical Drudgery. Compositions 53 

CHAPTER VIIL 
Growing Literary Renown. Royal Patrons 61 

CHAPTER IX. 
Bohemian Hours. Westminster Abbey. "Love's 

Labor's Lost" 73 

CHAPTER X. 
Queen Elizabeth. War. Shakspere in Ireland ... 82 

CHAPTER XL 
Rural England. "Romeo and Juliet" 91 

vii 



Contents 

Page 
CHAPTER XII. 
"Julius Csesar" 110 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Two Tramps. By Land and Sea 130 

CHAPTER XIV. 
Windsor Park. "Midsummer Night's Dream" .. 156 

CHAPTER XV. 
The Jew. Shylock. "Merchant of Venice" 175 

CHAPTER XVI. 
The Supernatural. "Hamlet" 202 

CHAPTER XVII. 
Death of Queen Elizabeth. Coronation of King 

James 233 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
iShakspere as Monologist. King James 244 

CHAPTER XIX. 

iStratford. Shakspere's Death. Patriotism Down 

the Ages 270 



FACSIMILE PAGES. 

Autograph Letter of Shakspere xxiii 

Autograph Poem of Shakspere 170 

Autograph Letter of King James 248 

Autograph Epitaph of Shakspere 280 



Vlll 



SWEEPSTAKES. 

Shakspere was the greatest delver into the mys- 
terious mind of man and Nature, and sunk his 
intellectual plummet deeper into the ocean of 
thought than any mortal that ever lived, before 
or after his glorious advent upon the earth. He 
was a universal ocean of knowledge, and the ebb 
and flow of his thoughts pulsated on the shores 
of every human passion. 

He was a mountain range of ideals, and has been 
a quarry of love, logic and liberty for all writers 
and actors since his day and age, out of which 
they have built fabrics of fame. 

No matter how often and numerous have been 
the ^^lasts" set off in his rocky foundations, the 
driller, stone mason and builder of books have 
failed to lessen his mammoth resources, and every 
succeeding age has borrowed rough ashlers, blocks 
of logic and pillars of philosophy from the inex- 
haustible mine of his divine understanding. 

He was an exemplification and consolidation 
of his own definition of greatness: 

"Some are horn great, some achieve greatness 
and sow^e have greatness thrust upon them/* 

The poet finds in Shakspere a blooming garden 
of perennial roses, the painter finds colors of 
heavenly hues, the musician finds seraphic songs 

ix 



Sweepstakes 

and celestial aspirations, the sculptor finds models 
of beauty and truth, the doctor finds pills and 
powders of Providence, the lawyer finds suits and 
briefs of right and reason, the preacher finds proph- 
ecies superior to Isaiah or Jeremiah, the historian 
finds lofty romance more interesting than facts and 
the actor "struts and frets" in the Shaksperian 
looking-glass of to-day, in the mad whirl of the 
mimic stage, with all the pomp and glory of de- 
parted warriors, statesmen, fools, princes and kings. 

Shakspere was grand master of history, poetry 
and philosophy — tripartite principles of memory, 
imagination and reason. He is credited with com- 
posing thirty-seven plays, comedies, tragedies and 
histories, as well as Venus and Adonis, The Eape 
of Lucrece, The Lovers' Complaint, The Passion- 
ate Pilgrim and one hundred and fifty-four clas- 
sical sonnets, all poems of unrivaled elegance. 

What a royal troop of various and universal 
characters leaped from the portals of his burning 
brain, to stalk forever down the center of the stage 
of life, exemplifying every human passion ! 

Shakspere never composed a play or poem with- 
out a purpose, to satirize an evil, correct a wrong 
or elevate the human soul into the lofty atmosphere 
of the good and great. His villains and heroes are 
of royal mold, and while he lashes with whips of 
scorn the sin of cupidity, hypocrisy and ingrati- 
tude, he never forgets to glorify love, truth and 
patriotism. 

Virtue and vice are exhibited in daily, home- 
spun dress, and stalking abroad through the cen- 
turies, the generous and brave nobility of King 
Lear, Caesar, Othello, and Hamlet, will be seen in 



Sweepstakes 

marked contrast to Shylock, Brutus^ Cassius, lagOj, 
Gloster and Macbeth. His fools and wits were 
philosophers, while many of his kings, queens, 
dnkes, lords and ladies were sneaks, frauds and 
murderers. 

Vice in velvet, gold and diamonds, suffered 
under the X-rays of his divine phrases, while vir- 
tue was winged with celestial plumes, soaring away 
into the heaven of peace and bliss. He was the 
matchless champion of stern morality, and the in- 
terpreter of universal reason. 

Shakspere was a multifarious man, and every 
glinting passion of his soul found rapid and elo- 
quent expression in words that beam and burn 
with eternal light. The stream of time washes 
away the fabrics of other poets, but leaves the ada- 
mantine structure of Shakspere erect and unin- 
jured. 

Being surcharged, for three hundred and forty 
years, with the spirit and imagination of Shaks- 
pere, I shall tell the world about his personal and 
literary life, and although some curious and un- 
reasonable people may not entirely believe every- 
thing I relate in this volume, I can only excuse 
and pity their judgment, for they must know that 
the Ideal is the Real! 

The intellectual pyramids of his thought still 
rise out of the desert wastes of literary scavengers 
and loom above the horizon of all the great writers 
and philosophers that preceded his advent on the 
globe. 

The blunt, licentious Saxon words and sentences 
in the first text of Shakspere, have been ruthlessly 
expurgated by his editorial commentators^ adding, 

xi 



Sweepstakes 

no doubt, to the beauty and decency of the plays, 
but sadly detracting from their original strength. 

Pope, Jonson, Steevens and even Malone have 
made so many minute, technical changes in the 
Folio Plays of 1623, printed seven years after the 
death of Shakspere, that their presumptive eluci- 
dation often drivels into obscurity. 

Editorial critics, with the best intention, have 
frequently edited the blood, bone and sinews of 
the original thought out of the works of the great- 
est authors. While attempting to simplify the text 
for common, rough readers, they mystify the matter 
by their egotistical explanation, and while showing 
their superior research and classical learning, they 
eliminate the chunk logic force of the real author. 

For thirty years Shakspere studied the varie- 
gated book of London life, with all the human 
oddities, and when spring and summer covered 
the earth with primroses, flowers and hawthorn 
blossoms, he rambled over domestic and foreign 
lands, through fields, forests, mountains and stormy 
seas. 

With the fun of Falstaff, the firmness of Caesar, 
the generosity of Eang Lear and the imagination 
of Hamlet, Shakspere also possessed the love-lit 
delicacy of Ophelia, Portia and Juliet, reveling 
familiarly with the spirits of water, earth and air, 
in his kingdom of living ghosts. He borrowed 
words and ideas from all the ancient philosophers, 
poets and story tellers, and shoveling them, pell- 
mell, into the furnace fires of his mammoth brain, 
fused their crude ore, by the forced draught of his 
fancy, into the laminated steel of enduring form 
and household utility. 

xii 



Sweepstakes 

The rough and uncouth corn of others passed 
through the hoppers of Shakspere's hrain and came 
out fine flour^ ready for use by the theatrical 
bakers. With the pen of pleasure and brush of 
fancy he painted human life in everlasting colors, 
that will not fade or tarnish with age or wither 
with the winds of adversity. The celestial sun- 
light of his genius permeated every object he 
touched and lifted even the vulgar vices of earth 
into the realms of virtue and beauty. 

Shakspere was an intellectual atmosphere that 
permeated and enlivened the world of thought. 
His genius was as universal as the air, where 
zephyr and storm moved at the imperial will of 
this Grand Master of human passions. 

Principles, not people, absorbed the mammoth 
mind of Shakspere, who paid little attention to the 
princes and philosophers of his day. Schools, 
universities, monks, priests and popes were rungs 
in the ladder of his mind, and only noticed to scar 
and satirize their hypocrisy, bigotry and tyranny 
with his javelins of matchless wit. The flower and 
fruit of thought sprang spontaneously from his 
seraphic soul. 

He flung his phrases into the intellectual ocean 
of thought, and they still shine and shower down 
the ages like meteors in a midnight sky. Like the 
busy bee, he banqueted on all the blossoms of the 
globe and stored the honey of his genius in the 
lofty crags of Parnassus. 

Shakspere and Nature were confidential friends, 
and, while she gave a few sheaves of knowledge 
to her other children, the old Dame bestowed upon 
the "Divine" William the harvest of all the ages. 

xiii 



Sweepstakes 

Sliakspere's equipoise of mind, placidity of con- 
duct and control of passion rendered him invul- 
nerable to the shafts of envy, malice and tyranny, 
making him always master of the human midgets 
or vultures that circled about his pathway. 

One touch from the brush of his imagination 
on the rudest dramatic canvas illuminated the 
murky scene and flashed on the eye of the beholder 
the rainbow colors of his matchless genius. 

Ben Jonson, Greene, Marlowe, Fletcher and 
Burbage gazed with astonishment at the versa- 
tility of his poetic and dramatic creations, and 
while pangs of jealousy shot athwart their envious 
souls, they knew that the Divine Bard was soaring 
above the alpine crags of thought, leaving them at 
the foothills of dramatic venture. 

He played the role of policy before peasant, lord 
and king, and used the applause and brain of each 
for his personal advancement, and yet he never sac- 
rificed principle for pelf or bedraggled the skirts 
of virtue in the gutter of vice. 

The Divine William knew more about every- 
thing than any other man knew about anything! 
He had a carnivorous and omnivorous mind, with 
a judicial soul, and controlled his temper with the 
same inflexible rule that Nature uses when mur- 
muring in zephyrs or shrieking in storms, receding 
or advancing in dramatic thought, as peace or 
passion demanded. 

He seemed at times to be a medley of contradic- 
tions, and while playing virtue against vice, the 
reader and beholder are often left in doubt as to 
the guilt or glory of the contending actors. He 
puts words of wisdom in the mouth of a fool, and 

ixiv 



Sweepstakes 

foolish phrases in the mouth of the wise, and 
shuttleeocked integrity in the loom of imagination. 

William was the only poet who ever had any 
money sense, and understood the real value of 
copper^ silver, gold, jewels and land. His early 
trials and poverty at Stratford, with the example 
of his bankrupt father was always in view, con- 
vincing him early in life that ready money was 
all-powerful, purchasing rank, comfort and even 
so-called love. 

Yet he only valued riches as a means of doing 
good, puncturing the bladder of bloated wealth 
with this pin of thought: 

''If thou art rich, thou art poor; 
For, lihe an ass whose haclc with ingots hows. 
Thou hearest thy heavy riches hut a journey. 
And Death unloads thee!" 

He noticed wherever he traveled that successful 
Btupidity, although secretly despised, was often the 
master of the people, while a genius with the wis- 
dom of the ages, starved at the castle gate, and like 
Mozart and Otway, found rest in the Potter's field. 

No Indian juggler could mystify the ear and 
eye and mind of an audience like Shakspere, for, 
over the crude thoughts of other dramatic writers 
he threw the glamour of his divine imagination, 
making the shrubs, vines and briers of life bloom 
into perpetual flowers of pleasure and beauty. 

With his mystic wand he mesmerized all. 
And peasants transformed to Icings; 

While age after age in cottage and hall. 
He soars with imperial wings. 



Sweepstakes 

N"o one mind ever comprehended Shakspere, and 
even all the authors and readers that sauntered over 
his wonderful garden of literary flowers and fruits 
have but barely clipped at the hedge-rows of his 
philosophy, culling a few fragmentary mementos 
from his immortal productions. 

Shakspere^s chirography was almost as variable 
as his mind, and when he sat down to compose 
plays for the Globe and Blackfrairs theatres, in 
his room adjacent to the Miter Tavern, he dashed 
off chunks of thought for pressing and waiting 
actors and managers, piecing them together like a 
cabinet joiner or machinist. 

In all his compositions he used, designedly, a 
pale blue ink that evaporated in the course of a 
year, and the cunning actors and publishers, who 
knew his secret, copied and memorized and printed 
his immortal thoughts. He kept a small bottle of 
indelible ink for ideals on parchment for posterity. 

I have often found his room littered and covered 
with numbered sheets of scenes and acts, ready for 
delivery to actors for recital, and many times the 
sunset over London would run its roxmd to sunrise 
and find William at his desk in the rookery, ham- 
mering away on the anvil of thought, fusing into 
shape his divine masterpieces. 

Shakspere's bohemian life was but an enlarged 
edition of his rural vagabond career through the 
fields and alehouses of Warwickshire. He only 
needed about four hours' sleep in twenty-four, but 
when composition on occasion demanded rapidity, 
he could work two days and rise from his labor as 
fresh as a lark from the flowery banks of Avon. 

Most of the great writers of antiquity patterned 

xvi 



Sweepstakes 

after greater than themselves, but Shakspere 
evolved from the illuminated palace of his soul 
the songs and sentiments that move the ages and 
make him the colossal champion of beauty, mercy, 
charity, purity, courage, love and truth. 

There are more numerous nuggets of thought in 
the works of Shakspere than in all the combined 
mass of ancient and modern literature. 

The various bibles, composed and manufactured 
by man, cannot compare in variety, common sense 
and eloquence, with the productions of the Im- 
mortal Bard. 

All the preachers, bishops, popes, kings, and em- 
perors that have ever conjured up texts and creeds 
for dupes, devotees and designers to swallow with- 
out question, have never yet sunk the plummet of 
reason so deep in the human heart as the butcher 
boy of Stratford ! 

Shakspere was the most industrious literary pros- 
pector and miner of any land or time, throwing his 
searchlight of reason into the crude mass of Indian, 
Assyrian, Persian, Eg3rptian, Greek, Eoman, Frank, 
German, Eussian and Briton lore, and forthwith 
appropriated the golden beauties of each nation, 
leaving behind the dross of vice and vulgarity. 

Marlowe, Burbage, Peele, Chapman, Greene and 
Jonson composed many fine physical and licentious 
dramas, pandering to the London groundlings, 
bloated wealth and accidental power ; but Shakspere 
threw a spiritual radiance over their brutal, sordid 
phrases and elevated stage characters into the realm 
of romantic thought, pinioned with hope, love and 
truth. His sublime imagination soared away into 
the flowery uplands of Divinity, and plucked from 

xvii 



Sweepstakes 

the azure wings of angels brilliant feathers of fancy 
that shall shine and flutter down the ages. 

He flung his javelin of wit through the buckler 
of ignorance, bigotry and tyranny, exposing their 
rotten bodies to the ridicule and hate of mankind. 

In lordly language he swept over the harp 
strings of the heart with infinite expression and 
comprehension of words, leaving in his intellectual 
wake a multifarious heritage of brain jewels. He 
flew over the world like a swarm of bees, robbing 
all the fields of literature of their secret sweets, 
storing the rich booty of Nature in the honey- 
comb of his philosophic hive. 

Through his brain the variegated paraphernalia 
of Nature, in field, forest, vale, mount, river, sea 
and sky were illuminated with a divine radiance 
that shall shine forever and grow greater as man- 
kind grows wiser. 

Shakspere has paid the greatest tribute of re- 
spect of any writer to women. While he gives us 
a few scolding, licentious, cruel, criminal women, 
like Dame Quickly, Katharina, Tamora, Gertrude 
and Lady Macbeth, he gives us the beautiful, faith- 
ful, loving characters of Isabella, Juliet, Desde- 
mona, Perdita, Helena, Miranda, Imogen, Ophelia 
and Cordelia, whose love-lit words and phrases 
shine out in the firmament of purity and devotion 
like morning stars in tropic skies. 

Shakspere studied all trades and professions he 
encountered in daily contact with mankind. He 
thought what he was and was what he thought! 
To him a sermon was a preacher, a writ a lawyer, 
a pill a doctor, a sail a sailor, a sword a soldier, 
a button a tailor, a nail a carpenter, a hammer a 

xviii 



Sweepstakes 

blacksmith, a trowel a stone mason, a pebble a 
geologist, a flower a botanist, a ray of light an 
astronomer, and even a word gave him ample sug- 
gestion to build up an empire of thought. 

He sailed upon the tides and currents of the 
human heart, and steered through the cliffs and 
caverns of the brain with greater glory than those 
who sought the golden "fleece^^ among the enchant- 
ing waters of Ionian isles. 

Shakspere conjured the characters of his plays 
from elemental principles, measures not men, 
breathing and acting in his divine atmosphere. It 
is strange and marvelous that he never wrote a 
line about the great men that lived and wrote in 
his day and age, although Cervantes, Rubens, 
Camoens, Bruno, Drake, Raleigh, Calderon, Cor- 
neille, Rembrandt, Kepler, Galileo, Montaigne, 
Beaumont and Fletcher^ Sidney, Marlowe, Bacon 
and Ben Jonson were contemporaneous authors, 
poets, dramatists, navigators, soldiers, astronomers 
and philosophers 

Licentious phrases and actions were universal in 
Shakspere^s time, and from the corrupt courts of 
King Henry the Eig^hth, Elizabeth and King 
James, to the cot of the peasant and trail of the 
tavern, morality hid her modest head and only 
flourished amons^ the puritans and philosophers 
who kept alive the flame of love and liberty. 

Dryden, Spenser, Sidney, Marlowe and Jonson 
infected literature with a species of eloquent vul- 
garity, and Shakspere, willing to please, readily 
infused into his various plays sensuous phrases 
to catch the rabble cheers and purpled applause. 
While he worshiped nature, he never failed to bend 

xix 



Sweepstakes 

the knee for ready cash, and often paid fulsome 
tribute to lords and ladies, who flattered his vanity 
and ministered to his "itching palm." 

Physical passion, mental license and social 
tyranny ruled in home, church and state, where 
Eome and Eeformation struggled viciously for the 
mastery. 

There are nuggets of golden thought still scat- 
tered through the plays of Shakspere that no au- 
thor or actor has ever discovered, and although 
they have read and repeated his lines, for more 
than three hundred years, there has been no brain 
able and brilliant enough to delve into or explain 
the secret caves of Shaksperian wit. Human 
sparrows cannot know the eagle flights of divine 
philosophy. 

The golden gilt of imagination decorated his 
phrases and the lambent light of his philosophy 
shone like the rosy dawn upon a field of variegated 
wild flowers. The hut and the cottage were trans- 
formed into lordly castles while the rocks and the 
hills became ranges of mountain, whose icy pin- 
nacles reflected back the shimmering light of suns 
and stars. 

Shakspere was a man of universal moods and 
like a chameleon took color and force from every 
object he touched. The draughts he took from the 
deep flowing wells of nature made no diminution in 
the volume of his thought, that rushed through 
his seething brain like an underground cataract 
filled from eternal springs. 

Fresh from the mint of his mind fell the clink- 
ing, golden coin of universal value, bearing the 
glowing stamp of his genius, unrivaled in the an- 



Sweepstakes 

nals of time. Since he wrote and acted, no man 
ever understood the depths of his wit and logic, or 
the height of his imagination and philosophy. The 
human mackerel cannot know the human whale. 

Shallow, presumptive college bookworms, arro- 
gant librarians and classical compilers, have at- 
tempted to explain his plays and sonnets, in foot- 
notes, but they have only been entangled in the 
briers and flowers of his fancy, finding themselves 
suffocated at last, in the luxurious fields of his 
eloquent rhetoric and universal wisdom. 

School-teachers, professors, priests, preachers, 
popes, and princes are brushed aside by the cut- 
ting phrases of Shakspere and go down to earth 
like grass before the scythe of this rustic reaper. 
They are dumfounded by his matchless mysteri- 
ous logic. Religion, law and medicine are pitch- 
forked about by the Divine William on the thresh- 
ing floor of his literary granary, where he separates 
wheat from chaff, instanter, leaving the beholder 
mystified by the splendid result. 

Viewing the great minds of the world from 
Homer to Humboldt, Shakspere never had an 
equal or superior, standing on the pinnacle of the 
pjrramid of human renown, and lifting his mam- 
moth mental form above the other philosophers of 
the earth as Mount St. Elias soars above its brother 
peaks. 

Distance lends a wizard enchantment to his lofty 
form and down the rolling ages his glory will grow 
greater until the whole universe is luminous with 
the dazzling lights of his eternal fame. 

Such god-like men shall never die; 
They shine as suns in tropic slcy, 



Sweepstakes 

And thrill the world with truth and love 
Derived from nature far above. 

Shakspere's mind was pinioned with celestial 
imagination, and his rushing flight circled the 
shores of omnipotence. He taught us that igno- 
rance was a crime, a murky night without a single 
star to light the traveler on his weary way. 

Those who have attempted to fathom the depths 
of the Shaksperian ocean of thought, have only 
rounded the rim or skimmed over the surface of 
its illimitable magnificence. Tossed about by the 
billows of Shakspere's brain, for three hundred 
and forty years mankind like a ship in a storm, 
still wonders and runs on the reefs of his under- 
standing, to be wrecked in their vain calculation 
of his divine wisdom. 

Leaving the beaten paths of oriental and middle 
age writers, he dashed deep into the forest of na- 
ture and surveyed for himself a new dominion 
of thought, that has never been occupied before 
or since his birth. Like a comet of universal 
light, he shines over the world with the warm glow 
of celestial knowledge. 

With the tuning key of his matchless genius 
he struck the chords of sorrow to their inmost 
tone and played on the heart strings of joy with 
the tender vibrations of an seolian harp, trembling 
with melodious echoes among the wild flowers 
of ecstatic passion. 

And to clap the climax and fathom the logic 
of love, he eloquently exclaims : 

"Love is not love that alters when it alteration 
finds r J. A. J. 

£sii 



H^'vwv'' {^fr«''fe iUirn-TjvC' 



XXlll 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER I. 

BIRTH. SCHOOL DAYS. SHOWS. 

'^One touch of Nature makes the whole world Tcin" 

William Shakspere was born on the 23d of 
April, 1564, at the town of Stratford, on the river 
Avon, Warwickshire County, England; and died 
in the same town on the 23d of April, 1616, ex- 
actly fifty-two years of age, the date of his birth 
being the date of his death, a remarkable coin- 
cidence of spiritual assimilation. 

For several centuries, his ancestors served their 
king and crown in war and peace ; and were noted 
in their day and age as country "gentlemen,^^ a 
term much more significant then than now, when 
even dressed up "dandy^^ frauds may lay claim 
to this much-abused title. 

The grandfather of Shakspere fought on Bos- 
worth Field with King Henry the Seventh, and 
was rewarded for his military service, leaving to 
his son John, the father of the "Divine" William, 
influence enough to secure the position of a coun- 
try squire and made him bailiff and mayor of the 
town of Stratford. 



Sh'akspere: Personal Recollections 

John Shakspere, in addition to his judicial 
duties, dabbled in trade as a wool dealer and glove 
maker, and when he lost influence and office he 
resorted to the business of a butcher to secure 
bread, meat and shelter for his large family. 

He married the youngest daughter of Robert 
Arden, a very beautiful girl of Wilmcote, a small 
village three miles from Stratford. When Arden 
died, Mary, his favorite daughter, was bequeathed 
thirty-six dollars, and a small farm of fifty acres, 
near the town of Snitterfield. Good inheritance 
for that age. 

The Arden family were strict Roman Catholics ; 
and Edward Arden, high sheriff of Warwickshire, 
was executed in 1583, for plotting against her 
majesty. Queen Elizabeth. Those were lively days, 
when the followers of the Pope and King Henry 
the Eighth, banished, burned and hung presump- 
tive heretics for opinion's sake! The lechery 
and greed of King Hal was the primary cause of 
his separation from papal authority, augmenting 
the Reformation by licentious royalty. 

John Shakspere and Mary, his good wife, did 
not seem to have much of an education, for in 
signing deeds of conveyance, they only made their 
mark like thousands of the yeomanry of England. 

Shakspere was a very common name in War- 
wickshire and the surrounding counties, and while 
the "Divine" William glorified the whole race, 
there were others of his name who fought for 
king and crown. 

John Shakspere had ten children, with the af- 
fectionate assistance of Mary Arden. Seven 
daughters and three boys, William being the third 

2 



Sh'akspere: Personal Recollections 

child and the most active and robust. Several 
of the flock died, thereby reducing the trials and 
expenses of the household ; the "old man" seeming 
to be one of those ancient "Mulberry Sellers/' that 
was forever making "millions'^ in his mind, and 
chasing gold bags at the west end of rainbows ! 

For many years he persistently applied to the 
College of Heralds for a "coat of arms;" and 
finally in the year of 1599, a picture of a "shield" 
with a "spear" and "falcon," rampant, was awarded 
to the Shakspere iamilj, all through the grow- 
ing influence of the actor and author William, 
who had become famous and wealthy. John Shak- 
spere did not enjoy the glory of his "coat of arms" 
very long, for we find that he died in Septem- 
ber, 1601, and was buried on the 8th of that month, 
at the old church in Stratford, and his brave old 
wife, the mother of William Shakspere, followed 
him to the tomb on the 9th of September, 1608. 

I first met Will Shakspere on the 23d of April, 
1571, at the old log and board schoolhouse at the 
head of Henley street, Stratford, on the river Avon. 
It was a bright, sunny day, and Mr. Walter Roche, 
the Latin master, was the autocrat of the scholastic 
institution, afterwards succeeded by Thomas Hunt. 

Will Shakspere and myself happened to be born 
on the same day, and our first entrance at the 
temple of knowledge marked exactly the seventh 
milestone of our fleeting years. 

Will was a very lusty, rollicking boy and was as 
full of innocent mischief as a pomegranate is of 
seeds. He was handsome and bright, wearing a 
thick suit of auburn curls, that rippled over his 
shoulders like a waterfall in the sunshine. His 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

eyes were very large, a light hazel hue, that glinted 
into blue when his soul was stirred by passion. 
His forehead was broad and high, even as a boy, 
2x>unding off into that ^^dome of thought" that in 
later years, when a six-foot specimen of splendid 
manhood caused him to conjure up such a uni- 
versal group of immortal characters. 

His nose was long and high, but symmetrical, 
and his distended nostrils, when excited at play, 
would remind you of a Kentucky racehorse in 
motion. His voice was sonorous and musical, and 
when stirred by passion or pleasure it rose and 
fell like the sound of waves upon a stormy or 
summer sea. His lips were red and full, marked 
by Nature, with the ^T^ow of beauty," and when 
his luminous countenance was flushed with celes- 
tial light, he shot the arrows of love-lit glances 
around the schoolroom and fairly magnetized the 
boys, and particularly the girls, with the radiant 
influence of his unconscious genius. 

Will was a constant source of anxiety and won- 
der to the teacher, who often marked him as the 
scapegoat to carry off the surface sins of sneaking 
and cowardly pupils. Corporal punishment was 
part of school discipline, and William and myself 
got our share of the rule and rod. 

Through all the centuries, in youth and age, 
private and public, the scapegoat has been the 
real hero in all troubles and misfortunes. He 
seems to be a necessary mortal, but while persecu- 
tion relentlessly pursues him, he almost invari- 
ably triumphs over his enemies, and when even 
devoted to the prison, the stake or the scaffold, as a 
martyr, lie triumphs over the grave and is mon- 

4 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

mnented in the memory of mankind for his brav- 
ery and silent self-sacrifice ! 

For seven school years Will and myself were 
daily companions. Spring, with its cowslips and 
primroses, and hawthorn blossoms, found ns 
rambling through the woods and fields, and an- 
gling for the finny tribe disporting in the purl- 
ing waters of the crystal Avon. 

Summer brought its grain and fruits, with boys 
and girls scrambling over hedges, fences, stiles 
and brooks, in search of berries and ripe apples; 
autumn with its nuts, birds and hares, invited us 
to hunting grounds, along the rolling ridges and 
the dense forest of Arden, even poaching on the 
domain of Sir Thomas Lucy and the royal reaches 
of Warwick Castle, and old winter with his snowy 
locks and whistling airs brought the roses to our 
young cheeks, skipping and sporting through his 
fantastic realm like the snow birds whirling in 
clumps of clouds across the withered world. 

Looking back over the fields, forests and waters 
of the past through the variegated realms of celes- 
tial imagination, I behold after the lapse of more 
than three centuries of human wrecks, the bril- 
liant boys and glorious girls I played with in 
childhood years — still shining as bright and fresh 
as the flowers and fruits of yesterday ! 

'^For we are the same our fathers have been. 
We see the same sights our fathers have seen. 
We drinlc the same streams and view the same 

sun. 
And run the same course our fathers have run!'' 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

I remember well the first time Will and myself 
attended a theatrical performance. It was on the 
first of April, 1573, when we were about nine 
years of age. 

A strolling band of comic, and Pnnch and Judy 
players had made a sudden invasion of Stratford 
and established themselves in the big barn of the 
old Bear Tavern on Bridge street. 

The town was alive with expectation and the 
school children were wild to behold the great play 
of "The Scolding Wife,^' which was advertised 
through the streets, in the daytime, by a cartload 
of bedizened harlequins, belaboring each other with 
words and gestures, the wife with bare arms, short 
dress and a bundle of rods, standing rampant 
over the prostrate form of a drunken husband. 

Fifes, drums and timbrels kept up a frantic 
noise, filling the bylanes and streets of Stratford 
with astonished country louts and tradesmen, un- 
til the fantastic parade ended in the wagon yard 
of the tavern. 

The old barn had been rigged up as a rustic 
playhouse, the stage covering one end, elevated 
about three feet from the threshing floor. Cur- 
tains with daub pictures were strung across the 
stage, separated in the center and shifted back- 
ward and forward, as the varying scenes of the 
family play were presented for the hisses or cheers 
of the variegated audience. 

The play consisted of three acts, showing the 
progress of courtship and marriage at the altar, 
country and town life with growing children, work, 
poverty, and final windup of the husband driven 
from home by the scolding wife, bruised in an 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

alehouse, dead and followed to the graveyard by the 
Beadle, undertaker and a brindle dog. 

The climax scene of the play exhibited the wife 
with a bundle of rods, surrounded by ragged chil- 
dren, driving out into a midnight storm the hus- 
band of her bosom, while peals of thunder and 
flashes of lightning brought goose pimples and 
shivers to the frightened audience. 

The impression made upon the mind of William 
and myself did not give us a very hopeful view 
of married life, and while the haphazard working, 
drinking habits of the husband seemed to deserve 
all the punishment he received, the modesty, benev- 
olence and beauty of woman was shattered in our 
young souls. 

On our way home from the country-tragedy 
performance we were gladdened by the thought, 
that although the rude, vulgar, criminal passions 
of mankind were portrayed and enacted day by 
day all over the globe, we could look up into the 
star-lit heavens and see those glittering lamps 
of night shining with reflected light on the mur- 
muring bosom of the Avon, as it flowed in peace- 
ful ripples to the Severn and from the Severn 
to the sea. Nature soothed our young hearts, and 
soon, in the mysterious realms of sleep, we forgot 
the sorrows and poverty of earth, tripping away 
with angelic companions through the golden fields 
of celestial dreams. 

" There are more things in heaven and earth, Ho- 
ratio, 
Than are dreamt of in our philosophy." 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

I shall never forget the great shows and pageants 
that took place in Warwickshire County, in July, 
1575. All England was alive to the grand entrance 
of Queen Elizabeth to Kenilworth Castle, as the 
royal guest of her favorite, Eobert Dudley, Earl 
of Leicester. Proclamation had gone forth that 
all work be suspended, while yeoman, trader, mer- 
chant, doctor, lawyer, minister, lords and earls 
should pay a pilgrimage to Kenilworth and pay 
tribute to the Virgin Queen. 

Stratford and the surrounding villages were 
aflame with enthusiasm, and as John Shakspere, 
the alderman and mayor, took great interest in 
theatricals and particularly those festivities in- 
augurated for the entertainment of royalty, he led 
a great concourse of devoted patriots through the 
forests of Arden, blooming parks of Warwick 
Castle on to the grand surroundings of Kenil- 
worth, where the people en masse camped, sang, 
danced, took part in country plays, feasted and 
went wild for eighteen days, over the illustrious 
daughter of Henry the Eighth. 

William and myself were among the enthusi- 
astic revelers, and for boys of twelve years of age, 
we felt more cheer than any of the lads and lasses 
from Stratford, because our parents furnished us 
with milk white ponies, to pay tribute, and t3rpify 
the virtue and chastity of the 'Virgin Queen !" We 
did not particularly care about virtue or virginity, 
so we shared in the cakes and ale that were lavished 
in profusion to the rural multitude. 

A high grand throne made out of evergreens and 
wild flowers was erected in the central park of 



8 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Kenilworth, rimmed in by lofty elms, oaks and 
sycamores. 

There, through the fleeting days and nights, the 
Queen and her royal suite of a thousand purpled 
cavaliers and bejeweled maids of honor, held court 
and viewed the ever-changing, living panorama 
evolved for their entertainment. The Queen looked 
like a wilderness of lace and variegated velvet, ir- 
rigated with a shower of diamonds. 

On the 9th of July Queen "Bess" and her il- 
luminated suite entered the Castle of Kenilworth, 
and the hands of the clock in the great tower 
pointed to the hour of two, where they remained 
until her departure, as invitation to a continual 
banquet. 

The Earl expended a thousand pounds a day for 
the fluid and food entertainment of his guests, 
while woodland bowers and innumerable tents were 
scattered through the royal domain generously 
donated to man and maid by night and day. We 
boys and girls seldom went to bed. 

Companies of circus performers, and theatrical 
artists, from London and other towns were brought 
down to the heart of Old Albion to swell the pleas- 
ure of the reigning Queen. Continual plays were 
going on, while horn, fife, bugle and drum lent 
music to the kaleidoscopic revel. 

Dancing, hunting, hawking and archery parties, 
through the day, lent their antics to the scene, and 
when night came with bright Luna showing her 
mystic face, forest fires, rockets and illuminated 
balloons filled the air with celestial wonder, vieing 
with the stars in an effort to do universal honor 



9 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

to the "Virgin Queen!" That^s what they called 
"Bess." 

William and myself took part in several of the 
joint cirCTis and theatrical performances^ and at 
the conclusion of one of the plays — "Virtue Vic- 
torious," Queen Elizabeth called up William and a 
purple page named Francis Bacon, patted them on 
the head with her royal digits, and said they would 
soon be great men ! 

I must acknowledge that I felt a little envious 
at the encomium, not so much to William, as to 
the proud peacock. Bacon, who came in the train 
of the Queen. 

At sunrise of the 27th of July, 1575, the fes- 
tivities closed, and the royal cavalcade with a fol- 
lowing of ten thousand loyal subjects, accompanied 
the ruling monarch to the borders of Warwick- 
shire, with universal shouts and ovations on her 
triumphal march to London. 

''I would applaud thee to the very echo. 
That should applaud again/' 

''All that glitters is not gold. 
Often you have heard that told; 
Many a man his life hath sold 
But my outside to hehold!" 



10 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER II. 

LAUNCHED. APPRENTICE BOY. AMBITION. 

''TTie fault, dear Brutus, is not in our Stars, 
But in ourselves that we are underlings/* 

Will Shakspere and myself left school when 
we were fourteen years of age. Our parents being 
reduced in worldly circumstances, needed the finan- 
cial fruits of our labor. 

Shakspere was bound to a butcher named John 
Bull, for a term of three years, while I was put at 
the trade of stone-cutting with Sam Granite for 
the same period. 

Will was one of the finest looking boys in the 
town of Stratford, aristocratic by nature, large and 
noble in appearance, and the pride of all the girls 
in the county of Warwick; for his fame as a 
runner, boxer, drinker, dancer, reciter, speaker, 
hunter, swimmer and singer was well known in the 
surrounding farms and villages, where he had oc- 
casion to drive, purchase and sell meat animals 
for his butcher boss, John Bull. Shakspere's father 
assisted Bull in selling hides and buying wool. 

In the winter of 1580, Will and myself joined a 
new thespian society, organized by the boys and 

11 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

girls of Stratford, with a contingent of theatrical 
talent from Shottery, Snitterfield, Leicester, Kenil- 
worth and Coventry. 

Strolling players, chartered by Queen Elizabeth 
and the Earl of Leicester, often visited Stratford 
and the surrounding towns, infusing into the 
young, and even the old, a desire for that innocent 
fun of tragic or comic philosophy that wandering 
minstrels and circus exhibitions generate in the hu- 
man heart. 

Plays of Eoman, Spanish and German origin, 
as well as those of Old Albion, were enacted on our 
rural stage, and although we had not the para- 
phernalia and scenery of the London actors, we 
made up in frantic enthusiasm what we lacked in 
artistic finish, and often in our amateur exhibi- 
tions at balls, fairs, races and May Day Morris 
dances, we "astonished the natives,^^ who paid from 
a penny to sixpence to see and hear the "Stratford 
Oriental Theatrical Company." 

Shakspere always took a leading part in every 
play, poem and declamation, but when an encore 
was given and a demand for a recitation on love. 
Will was in his natural element and gave the eager 
audience dashes from Ovid's Metamorphoses or 
Petrarch's Sonnets. 

The local company had a large assortment of 
poetic and theatrical translations, and many of the 
boys and girls who had passed through the Latin 
school, could "spout" the rhythmic lines of Ovid, 
Virgil, Horace or Petrarch in the original lan- 
guage. And strange to say the Warwickshire au- 
dience would cheer the Latin more than the English 
rendition, on the principle that the least you know 

1^ 



i 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

about a thing the more you enjoy it! Thus pre- 
tense and ignorance make a stagger at informa- 
tion, and while fooling themselves, imagine that 
they fool their elbow neighbor ! 

Shakspere had a most marvelous memory, and 
his sense of taste, smell, feeling, hearing and par- 
ticularly seeing was abnormally developed, and con- 
stant practice in talking and copying verses and 
philosophic sentences made him almost perfect 
in his deductions and conclusions. He was a nat- 
ural orator, and impressed the beholder with his 
superiority. 

He had a habit of copying the best verses, dra- 
matic phrases and orations of ancient authors, and 
then to show his superiority of epigrammatic, inci- 
sive style, he could paraphrase the poems of other 
writers into his own divine sentences, using the 
crude ore of Homeric and Platonic philosophy, re- 
solving their thoughts into the best form of classic 
English, lucid, brave and blunt ! 

I have often tested his powers of lightning ob- 
servation with each of us running by shop win- 
dows in Stratford, Oxford or London, and betting a 
dinner as to who could name the greatest number 
of objects, and he invariably could name correctly 
three to my one. In visiting country farmers in 
search of cattle, sheep or pigs he could mount a 
stone fence or climb a hedge row gate, and by a 
glance over the field or meadow, give the correct 
number of animals in sight. 

He was a wonder to the yeomanry of Warwick- 
shire and the surrounding counties, and when he 
had occasion to rest for the night at farm houses 
or taverns, he was the prime favorite of the rural 

13 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Sames or bouncing, beaming barmaid. The girls 
went wild about him. The physical development of 
Shakspere was as noticeable as his mental superi- 
ority. Often when he ploughed the placid waters 
of the Avon, or buffeted the breakers of the moan- 
ing sea, have I gazed in rapture at his manly, 
Adonis form, standing on the sands, like a Grecian 
wrestler, waiting for the laurel crown of the Olym- 
pic games. 

Great Shakspere was endowed with heavenly light; 
He read the hooh of Nature day and nighty 
And delving through the strata of manhind 
Divined the thoughts that thrilled the mystic mind. 
And felt the pulse of all the human race. 
While from their heating heart could surely trace 
The various passions that inspire the soul 
Around this breathing world from pole to pole! 

My family and the Hathaway household were 
on familiar terms, for my father at times worked 
an adjoining! estate at the edge of the village of 
Shottery, a straggling community of farmers and 
tradesmen, with the usual wheelwright, blacksmith 
shop, corn and meat store and alehouse attachments. 

William, in his rural perambulations, often put 
up for the night at our cottage, and as there was 
generally some fun going on in the neighborhood 
after dark, I led him into many frolics with the 
boys and girls; and I can assure you he was a 
rusher with the fair sex, capturing the plums 
that fell from the tree of beauty and passion. 

On a certain moonlight night, in the month of 
May, 1581, a large concourse of rural belles and 

14 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

beaux assembled at the borne of John Dryden, 
washed by the waters of the Avon, and thrilled by 
the songs of the nightingales, thrushes and larks 
lending enchantment to the flitting honrs. 

Stratford, Snitterfield, Wilmcote and Shottery 
sent their contingent of roistering boys and girls 
to enjoy the moonlight lawn dance and rural feast 
set out under flowery bowers by the generous Dry- 
den. 

It would have done your heart good to see the 
variegated dresses, antics and faces of the happy 
rural belles. I see them as plain as ever in the 
looking-glass of memory. There is Laura Combs, 
plump and intelligent, Mary Scott, willowy and 
keen, Jennie Field, sedate and sterling, Mary Hall, 
musical and handsome, Annie Condell, modest and 
benevolent, Joyce Acton, witty and aristocratic, 
Lizzie Heminge, bouncing and beaming, Fannie 
Hunt, stately and kind, while Anne Hathaway, the 
big girl of the party, seemed to be the leader in 
all the innocent mischief of the evening. 

William took a particular liking to the push 
and go of Anne, and she seemed to concentrate her 
gaze on his robust form at first sight. William 
asked me, as the friend of the family, to intro- 
duce him to Miss Hathaway, which I did in my 
best words, and away they went, on a hop, step 
and a jump through the Morris dance that was 
just then being enacted on the lawn. 

The clarion notes of the farm cocks were saluting 
the rosy footsteps of the dawn when the various 
parties dispersed for home. 

The last I saw of William he was helping Miss 
Hathaway over the rustic stile and hedge row that 

15 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

rimmed the old thatched cottage home of his new 
found flame. 

It was a frigid day or night when William could 
not find something fresh and new among the fair 
sex, and like a king bee in a field of wild flowers, 
he sipped the nectar of love and beauty, and tossed 
carking care to the vagrant winds. 

It was soon after this moonlight party that a 
picnic revel was given in the domain of Sir Hugh 
Clopton, near the old mill and stone bridge erected 
by that generous public benefactor. 

The boys and girls of the town turned out en 
masse, and enjoyed the hawking, hunting, swim- 
ming, dancing, archery and boating that prevailed 
that day. 

In the midst of the festivities, while a long line 
of rural beauties and beaux were prancing and 
rollicking on the bridge, a scream, and a flash of 
Dolly Varden dress in the river showed the strug- 
gling efforts of Anne Hathaway to keep her head 
above water. 

One glance at the pride of his heart struggling 
for her life determined the soul of the athlete, 
when he plunged into the running stream, caught 
the arm of his adored as she was going down for 
the third time, and then with a few mighty sweeps 
of his brawny arm, he reached the shore and heaved 
her on the sands in an almost lifeless condition. 
She was soon restored, however, by her numerous 
companions, with only the loss of a few ribbons 
and bunches of hawthorn blossoms that William 
had tied in her golden hair that morning. 

William was the hero of the day, and his fame 
for bravery rung on the lips of the Warwick- 

16; 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

shire yeomanry, while in the heart of Anne Hatha- 
way devotion reigned supreme. 

''There is no love hroJcer in the world can more 
prevail in mans commendation with woman than 
report of valor/" 

The courtship of William and Anne was rapid, 
and although her father died only a few months 
before the 27th of November, 1582, license to 
marry was suddenly obtained through the insist- 
ence of the yeoman friends of the Hathaway fam- 
ily, Fulke-Sandells and John Richardson, who con- 
vinced the Lord Bishop of Worcester that one call- 
ing of the banns of matrimony was only necessary. 

William left his home in Stratford immediately 
and took charge of Anne's cottage and farm, set- 
tling down as soon as one of his rollicking nature 
could realize that he had been virtually forced 
into marrying a buxom girl, eight years older than 
himself, and a woman of hot temper. Six months 
after marriage Susanna, his daughter was born, 
and about two years after, February 2d, 1585, his 
twin children Hammet and Judith were ushered 
into his cottage home, as new pledges of matrimo- 
nial felicity. 

Things did not move on with William as happily 
after marriage as before, and while his wife did 
most of the work, the Bard of Nature preferred to 
shirk hard labor in field and wood, longing con- 
stantly to meet the ^"hoys" at the tavern, or fish, 
sing, hunt and poach along the Avon. 

Yoking Pegasus to a Manders mare would be 
about as reasonable as joining a practical^ honest 
woman with a poet! 

ir 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Water and hot oil will not mix, and the fires 
of genius cannot be curbed or subdued by material 
surroundings. Beef cannot appreciate brains! 

Anne was constantly sand papering William 
about his vagabond life, and holding up the picture 
of ruin for her ancestral estate, by his thoughtless 
extravagance and determination to attend to other 
people^s business instead of his own. As the wife 
was senior and business boss, the Bard endured 
these curtain lectures with meekness and surface 
sorrow and promises of reformation, but, when 
out of her sight continued in the same old rut of 
playing the clown and philosopher for the public 
amusement. 

^'Eow hard it is to hide the spark of Nature!" 



18 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTEE III. 

FARM LIFE. SPORTING. POACHING ON LUCY. 

'^Hanging and wiving go hy destiny!" 

The drudgery of farm work was not relished by 
Shakspere, and the spring of 1586 found the man 
of destiny more engaged in the sports of Stratford 
and surrounding villages than in the production 
of corn, cabbage, turnips and potato(3s. Where fun 
was to be found William raised the auction and 
the highest bidder at the booths of vanity fair. 
He was athletic in mind and body, and forever 
like a cribbed lion or caged eagle, struggled to 
shake off his rural environments and dash away 
into the world of thought and action. 

Home, with its practical, daily gad grind moral- 
ity and responsibility, had no charm for William, 
and his stalwart wife made matters worse by her 
continual importunities to her vagabond husband 
to settle down with the muttonhead clodhoppers 
and tradesmen of Warwickshire. He was not built 
that way! 

Her farm logic fell upon deaf ears, for while she 
was preaching hard work he was reading the love- 
lit flights of Ovid and pondering over the sugared 
sonnets of Petrarch and Sir Philip Sidney, living 
in the realms of Clio^ Euterpe and Terpsichore, 

19 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

preparing even then his pathway to the great poems 
of Venus and Adonis, Lncrece, the sonnets and 
the immortal plays that were incubating in the 
procreant soul of the Divine Bard. He was his 
own schoolmaster, drawing daily draughts from 
the universal fountains of JS'ature. 

And what a blessing it is to the public to have 
even a social scapegrace hatch out golden ideas for 
their education and amusement, notwithstanding 
the neglect of farm and family ! 

The greatest good to the greatest number is best 
for all time. 

''God moves in a mysterious way. 
His wonders to perform. 
He plants His footsteps in the sea 
And rides upon the storm/' 

On the first of September, 1586, the lord high 
sheriff of Coventry invited the people to an arch- 
ery and drinking contest. 

Eepresentatives from twenty-five villages and 
towns were selected, from the various working 
guilds and professions, to conquer or die (drunk) 
in the Queen^s name for the honor of Old Albion. 

Ceres, the Goddess of Harvest, had showered her 
riches on the fields and forests of Warwickshire, 
and to glorify her abundance, a great athletic and 
semimilitary carnival was thus given by the au- 
thorities to test the bravery, endurance and great- 
ness of the sons of Saint George and the Dragon. 

The beautiful, broad, undulating, winding high- 
ways, leading from Stratford, Warwick, Kenilworth 
and Birmingham to the ancient town of Coventry 

20 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

were filled with jolly pilgrims to pay devotion at 
the shrine of Hercules and Bacchus, with the in- 
fluence of Venus as an ever-present incentive to 
passionate pleasure. 

That bright September morning I well remem- 
ber ! Dame Nature was just donning her variegated 
gown of rustic-brown, while fitful airs from the 
realms of Jack Frost were painting the wild roses 
and forest leaves in cardinal hue, and the black- 
bird, thrush and musical nightingale flew low and 
sang hoarse, but continually, in their assemblages 
for migration to lands of sun and flowers. 

From Kenilworth to Coventry the rural scenery 
is as various and beautiful as visions of a dream, 
and the undulating landscape by hill and dale, 
field and forest, river, marge, cottage, hall, church 
and castle, grouping themselves in shifting pic- 
tures of beauty and grandeur, where lofty elms 
and sycamores rise and bend their willowy arms 
to the passing breeze, indelibly impresses the be- 
holder with a splendid kaleidoscopic view of Eng- 
lish hospitality and agricultural cultivation. 

The tall turrets of monasteries, castles and soar- 
ing church spires of Coventry looked luminous in 
the morning sunshine, while the brazen tongues of 
century bells rolled their mellifluous matin tones 
in voluminous welcome to the great multitude 
of revelers within her embattled walls and hospi- 
table homes. 

Promptly at nine o'clock in the morning, in the 
Leicester Park, twenty-five accoutered long bow 
men, in archery uniform, took their stand before 
the bulFs eye targets two hundred yards away. 

At the words "draw," "aim" and *^fly'' the whiz- 

21 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

zing arrows centered and shivered in the oak tar- 
gets, and none hit the bull's but Will Shak- 
spere of Stratford, who was proclaimed winner of 
the first prize, an ox, a barrel of sack and butt of 
wine, with the privilege of kissing every girl in 
the county. 

The entire day was spent in all kinds of sports, 
and with roasts, joints, bread, pudding, sack, ale, 
gin, brandy and whiskey, the revelers did not break 
up until daylight, when all were laid under the 
table but William and his friends Burbage, Con- 
dell and Dick Field, who had come away from his 
printing house in London to witness one of the 
greatest rural sports of England. 

Although Stratford was not a da3r's walk from 
Coventry, William and his friends did not suc- 
ceed in getting back for three days, and often they 
traveled by the light of the moon believing it was 
the sun in midday splendor. 

Anne Hathaway heard of William's official and 
social victory, not in the proud light of his Strat- 
ford and Shottery alehouse companions, but with 
a tongue like a gad, she proposed to lash him into 
shame as a husband or drive him from his cottage 
home to earn a living for his infant children. 

William was a little dubious as to his reception, 
and in order to temper the storm to the "ambling 
lamh," he earnestly requested me to accompany 
him home, as a buffer to his contemplated recep- 
tion, believing that Anne would mellow her words 
and actions in the presence of an old friend. 

I respectfully declined his pressing invitation 
and twitted him on being afraid of a woman, 
when he plaintively exclaimed: 

22 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

^Anne Hath-a-tvay that gives me pain. 

She scolds both day and night; 
Her tongue goes pattering liTce the rain 

And speeds my outward flight; 
Til soon he gone to London town 

And leave her house and land 
Where I will gain some great renown 

That she may understand. 

I met William the next morning on his way to 
the Crown Tavern in search of a "Martini Cock- 
tail," a new drink that an Indian from America 
had invented for Admiral Drake and Sir Walter 
Ealeigh. 

William bore the appearance of a man who had 
slept by a smoky chimney, or encountered the butt 
end of a threshing flail. He seemed sombre and 
muttered to himself : 

^'When sorrows come they come not single 
But in battalions r 

I joined him in liquidation at the tavern, for, 
to tell the truth, my throat felt like the rough 
edge of a buffalo robe, and my nerves trembled 
like aspen leaves in July. 

When our usual village sports filed around 
the table, and glee and song once more prevailed, 
William began to soften in his statuesque attitude, 
and laughingly proposed that we "go a poaching"^ 
on the imprisoned animals and birds that Squire 
Lucy corraled for his special delectation, to the 
detriment of honest apprentices and pure-minded 
yeomanry. 

His proposition was agreed to unanimously, 

23 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

and just as the stin tipped the treetops of the 
Charlecote domain, we had scared up a couple of 
fat deer, and sent our arrows through their trem- 
bling anatomy, and the number of hares, grouse 
and pigeons we slaughtered that evening kept the 
landlord of the Crown Tavern busy for two days 
to dish up to his jolly revelers. 

In this escapade we only imitated the aristo- 
cratic students of Oxford College, who frequently 
made inroads into lordly domains and took some 
of the treasures that God and Nature intended for 
all men, instead of being hatched, bred and watched 
by impudent and cruel gamekeepers, employed by 
tyrannical landlords, in defiance of the natural 
rights of the people. 

Even the fish in the Avon, Severn and Bay were 
registered and claimed by scrubs of royalty for 
their exclusive use, fine and imprisonment being 
imposed for hunting on the land and fishing 
in the streams that God made for all men. 

These parliamentary laws should be voted or 
bulleted out of the statute books, and the people 
again inherit their inalienable rights. 

My friend William was arrested by the ma- 
licious Lucy, and the gamekeeper, Tom Snap, swore 
to enough facts to exile, hang and quarter the Bard. 

Through the influence of his father and John A. 
Combe, William, the chief culprit, was not im- 
prisoned, but compelled to pay a fine of one pound 
ten. 

He did not have but three shillings, yet the boys 
secretly passed the hat around in the court yard 
and tavern, and soon extricated our chum from 
the toils of Sir Thomas Lucy. 

24 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

William did not have the courage to face his 
wife after a week's absence, and told me privately 
that he was going off instanter by the way of Ox- 
ford to London and seek his fortune. 

I applauded his spunk and determination, and, 
at his solicitation willingly joined him in his 
eloquent rambles. My parents were both dead, and 
being of a bohemian tendency, my home has ever 
been on any spot of the earth where the sun rose or 
set. Pot luck suits me. 

E'atural freedom of body and mind has ever been 
my greatest delight and the artificial fashions and 
tyrannical laws of society I despise and defy, and 
shall to my dying day. My mind is my master. 

Eight is my religion and God is my instructor ! 

'^I must have liberty 
Withal, as large a charter as the wind 
To blow on whom I please/' 

The evening before we left Stratford William 
wrote a short note to his wife and said that he 
would take her advice, leave the town, and seek 
his fortune in the whirlpool of grand old London. 

I imagine that Anne was delighted to receive 
his impromptu note, for it left her one less mouth 
to feed; and William was equally satisfied to be 
relieved of the role of playing husband without 
any of the practical moral adjuncts. 

In passing by the entrance gate to the lordly 
estate of Sir Thomas Lucy, or Justice Shallow, 
William nailed up the following poetic shot to 
the hot-headed old squire, which was read and 
copied the next morning, by all the market men 

2S> 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

going to town, and the tavern lads going to their 
country ploughs : 

"The tyrant Thomas Lucy 

Lets no one go to mass, 
^Ee's a squire for Queen Bess, 

And in Parliament an ass; 
Fair Charlecote is ruined 

By this hlujfer of the state, 
'And only his dependents 

Will dare to call him great. 
The deer and hares and pidgeons 

Are imprisoned for his use. 
Yet, poaching lads from Stratford 

Pluch this strutting, feathered goose." 



2^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER IV. 

IN SEARCH OF PEACE AND FORTUNE. 

'^ Blessed are those whose hlood 
And judgment are so commingled. 
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger 
'To sound what stop she pleases.' 
'Give me that man that is not passion's slave' 
And I will wear him in my heart's core. 
Ay, in my heart of heart as I do thee." 

Early on the morning of the 9th of September, 
1586, William and myself took our departure from 
the Crown Tavern. The landlord, Tom Gill, gave 
ns a bottle of his best gin and brandy to cheer iis 
on onr way to fame and fortune. Fannie Hill, 
the barmaid, threw kisses at ns nntil we rounded 
the corner of the street leading to the old Gram- 
mar School. We carried blackthorn cudgels to 
protect us from gamekeepers, lords and dogs. 

As we passed the modest cottage where William's 
parents resided, he impulsively broke away from 
my presence to bid a long farewell to his angelic 
mother, and soon again he was at my side, flushed 
with pride and tears, exclaiming in undertone : 

A mother's love and fervent hope 
Are coined into our horoscope. 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

And to our latest dying hreatJi 

Her heart and soul are ours to death! 

In his clutclied hand he held four gold ^^sov- 
ereigns'^ that his fond mother had given him at 
parting to help him in the daily trials of life, when 
no other friend conld be so triie and powerful. 
Gold gilds success. 

"Here, Jack, keep two of these for yourself, and 
if I should ever be penniless, and you have gold, I 
know you will aid me in a pinch. The wine na- 
ture of your soul needs no bush. 

''We still have slept together. 
Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together. 
And wherever we went, liTce Juno's swans. 
Still we went coupled, and inseparable/' 

^^illiam," said I, '^memory with her indelible 
signet shall long imprint this generous act of yours 
upon my soul, and when hundreds of years have 
passed, I shall tell of the undying friendship of 
two bohemians, who, day and night, set their 
own fashion, created a world of their own, and 
lived ecstatically, oscillating between the blunders 
of Bacchus and the vanity of Venus !" 

William's heart was heavy when turning his 
back on father, mother, brother, sister, wife and 
children, at the age of twenty-two. 

We passed along the Clopton stone bridge, and 
as we tramped over Primrose Hill looking back 
at the roofs and spires of Stratford, glinting in the 
morning light, the Bard uttered this impulsive 
dash of eloquence: 

^8 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Farewell, farewell! a sad farewell 

To glowing scenes of hoyJiood. 

Ye roclcs, and rills and forests primeval 

List to my sighing soul, trembling on the tongue 

To vent its echoes in ambient air. 

No more shall wild eyed deer. 

Fretful hares, hawlcs and hounds 

Entrance mine ear and vision, 

Or frantically depart when 

Stealthy footsteps disturb the larTc, 

Ere Phoebus' golden light 

Illuminates the dawn. 

Memory, many hued maiden. 

Oft in midnight hours 

Shall picture these eternal hills. 

And purling streams, rimmed by 

Vernal meadows; 

And pilloived even in the lap of misery 

Fantastic visions of thee 

Shall lull deepest woe to repose. 

And banqueting at yon alehouse. 

Nestling near blooming hedge and snowy 

Hawthorn, I shall live again 

In blissful dreams among the enchanting 

Precincts of the silver, serpentine Avon. 

To thee I lift my hands in prayer 

Disappearing, and pinioned with Hope; 

Daughter of Love and sunrise — 

Go forth to multitudinous London, 

And, ''bucTcle fortune on my back'' 

"To bear her burden," to successful, 

Lofty heights of mind illimitable. 

With this apostrophe, we took a last look at 
the glinting gables and sparkling spires of Strat- 

^9, 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

ford, disappearing over the hill, our steps and 
faces turned to London town, that seething whirl- 
pool of human woe and pleasure. 

The air was cold and the country roads were 
rutty and muddy, but the autumn landscape was 
beautiful, in its gray and purple garb, while the 
notes of flitting wild birds chirped and sang from 
bush, hedge, field and forest, in a mournful mono- 
tone to the fading glory of the year. 

The various birds chattered in clumps along 
the highway, and then would rise over our heads 
in flitting flocks, steering their course to the south 
and seemingly accompanying us on our wander- 
ing way to the great metropolis. 

In our zigzag course we passed through the towns 
of Ettington, Oxhill, Wroxton, Woodstock, Ever- 
sham and Oxford. 

It was near sunset when the lofty towers and 
steeples of ancient Oxford, the great site of classic 
lore, met our view. In our haste to enter the city 
before dark, we jumped a hedge fence and stone 
wall, making a short cross-cut over the lordly do- 
main of the Earl of Norfolk, and just as we were 
again emerging into the great road, a gamekeeper 
was seen approaching with a huge mastiff, who 
rushed upon us like a lion. 

We were near a rough wall, and it appeared to 
both of us that unless we stood for immediate 
fight the dog would tear us to pieces. 

The gamekeeper urged the dog in his barking, 
mad career, but just as he made a grand leap at 
William's throat, his blackthorn cudgel came 
down with a whirl and broke the forelegs of the 
mastiff, sending him to earth with a growl and 

30 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

roar that could be heard over the castle walls 
that loomed up in the evening gray. The game- 
keeper aimed a blunderbuss at the Bard, but ere 
he could fire the deadly weapon, I jumped on the 
petty tyrant whelp, and cudgeled his face into a 
macerated beefsteak. 

We then leaped the garden wall and rushed into 
the city crowd where the curtains of night screened 
us from dogs and licentious lords. 

We found our way to the Crown Tavern, kept 
by Eichard Devanant and his buxom black-eyed 
wife. 

The old Boniface was Jolly, but was in his 
physical and spiritual dotage, yet "Nell," his sec- 
ond wife, was the life of the place, being im- 
mensely popular with the Oxford students, who 
circled about the "Crown" in midnight hours, 
with hilarious independence, that defied the raids 
of beadles, watchmen and armed constabulary. 

Those were gay and roystering days and nights 
when the greatest yeoman, tradesman, student, or 
lord, was the one who "drank his comrade under 
the table" and went away at sunrise like a lark, 
fluttering with dew from his downy wing, and 
soaring into the sky of beauty and action. 

It was Saturday night when we pulled up at 
the old tavern, and there seemed to be a great 
crowd of town people celebrating some local event. 

We soon found that the senior class of Oxonian 
students had conquered the senior class of Cam- 
bridge at a great game of inter-college football 
and the cheers and yells of Oxford bloods perme- 
ated the atmosphere until midnight. 

A round table spread in the tavern hall was 

31 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

loaded with food and liquors, while songs and 
speeches were given with a vim, all boasting of 
the prowess and patriotism of Oxford. 

A number of strolling players and boxers were 
introduced during the evening. 

A young lord named Bob Burleigh, was presi- 
dent of the club, while Mat Monmouth was the 
spokesman, who called on the various students and 
actors to entertain the town roysters who dropped 
in to see the free and easy celebration of the foot- 
ball victory. 

While drowning our grief and loneliness in pew- 
ter pots of ale at a side table, in a snug corner, 
who should slap William on the shoulder but Ned 
Sadler, our old schoolmate from Stratford. N'ed 
was a jolly rake, and had been in London sporting 
with theatrical companies, and, as a citizen of the 
world, was perfectly at home wherever night over- 
took him. 

At the height of the college banquet Mat Mon- 
mouth announced that the president of the Cam- 
bridge Boxing Club had just challenged the presi- 
dent of the Oxford Club to fight, under the King's 
rule, for a purse of twenty guineas. 

A wild cheer rent the room, and instanter the 
chairs and tables were pushed aside, when Dick 
Milton and Jack Norfolk stepped into the impro- 
vised prize ring, made by the circling arms of 
the students. 

Five rounds with gloves were to be fought, and 
the champion who knocked out his opponent three 
times, should be the victor. 

Dick Milton, the Cambridge athlete, when 
"time^^ was called, rushed on Jack Norfolk^ the 

m 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Oxford man, with a blow that sent him over the 
circling arms and into the chairs. 

Score one for Dick. 

Time was called, and Jack, although a little 
dazed, leaped at his opponent, who dodged the 
rush, and with a qnick turn got in, a left-hander 
on Jack's neck, and pastured him again among 
the yelling bloods. 

Score two for Dick. 

When time was called for the third round, the 
Oxford man looked bleary and tremulous, but with 
that bull-dog courage that never deserts an Eng- 
lishman, he threw himself on the Cambridge man 
with great force and both went down with a 
crash. 

Dick shook his opponent off like a terrier would 
a rat, and standing erect at the end of the room, 
waited for the call of time. 

Jack Norfolk did not respond to the call. 

Score three for Dick. Victory! 

Then the yell of the Cambridge students could be 
heard among the turrets and gables of classic Ox- 
ford, a recompense for their defeat at the after- 
noon football game. 

Dick Milton, flushed with wine and victory, 
held aloft the purse of guineas, and challenged any 
man in the room to fight him three rounds. 

There seemed to be no immediate response, but I 
noticed a flush in the face of William, who mod- 
estly rose in his six-foot form and asked if the 
challenge included outside citizens? 

Dick immediately replied, ^^You, or anybody in 
England.'^ William said he did not know much 
about fighting with gloves, but if the gentleman 

3a 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

would consent to three rounds with bare knuckles 
he would be pleased to accommodate him at once. 

"All right, toe the mark !" 

Mat Monmouth called time. 

Dick Milton made a tiger leap at William, and 
landed with his right eye on the right knuckles of 
the Stratford citizen. The quickness and science 
of the Bard was a great surprise to the Cambridge 
athlete, and when time was called he came up 
groggy with a funeral eye, on the defense, and not 
on the tiger attack. 

Considerable sparring for place, and dodging 
about the human ring, was indulged in by Dick, 
but William foiled each blow, and as the Cam- 
bridge man inadvertently rubbed his swollen eye, 
the Bard landed a stinging blow on the left optic 
of Milton and sent him into the arms of the land- 
lord. 

When time was called, no response from the 
Cambridge champion was heard, and Mat Mon- 
mouth handed over the prize purse to William, 
when the Oxford lads cheered the Stratford 
stranger to the echo, and made him an honorary 
member of their athletic club. 

"Screiv your courage to the sticking place. 
And we will not fail." 

!At the second crow of the cock William and my- 
self bid good-bye to the jolly Boniface and his 
fantastic spouse, who made a deep impression on 
the Bard. In fact, he was easily impressed when 
youth, beauty and pleasure reigned around, and 
had he been born in Kentucky, no blue ribbon 

34: 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

stallion in the commonwealth could match his 
form, spirit or gait. 

Apollo with his rosy footsteps lit up hill, 
meadow and lawn, and kissed away the sparkling 
dewdrops of bush and hedge, cheering us on our 
way through the towns of Thane, over the Chil- 
ton Hills, on to Great Marlow, Maidenhead and 
renowned Windsor, where forest and castle thrilled 
the beholder with admiration for the works of 
Nature and Art. 

It was late in the afternoon when we entered 
the broad highway to Windsor, passing numerous 
yeomen and tradespeople on their way to and 
from the royal domain of Her Majesty Queen 
Elizabeth. 

In striding along, with hearts light and airy, 
we were suddenly startled by cries of frantic yells 
coming from the rear, and looking around beheld 
a wild, runaway horse, and an open wagon with 
two young girls screaming for help. 

To see, think and act was always the way of 
William, and as the horse rushed by with wagon 
and girls, nearly clipping our legs off, the Bard 
made a leap for the tail board of the vehicle and 
landed in the midst of the frightened girls. He 
then, as if inspired with the impulse of a tiger, 
jumped on the back of the rushing animal, grabbed 
the trailing lines, and neck of the horse, and 
steered him into a huge box hedge row that skirted 
the castle walls of Windsor. 

Every one went after the runaway to see the fate 
of the party; but strange to say, the horse was 
lodged high and dry in the hedge row, while Wil- 
liam and the girls crawled out of the wreck with- 

35 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

out a scratch, soon recovering from the fear, trepi- 
dation and danger that but a moment before 
reigned supreme. 

We put up for the night at the Eed Lion Tavern, 
and you may be sure that William was the hero 
of the town. 

Eose and Bess Montagle were the young ladies 
whose lives had been providentially saved, and 
their father was the head gamekeeper of Windsor. 

William was invited for breakfast the next 
morning at the stone lodge to receive hearty 
thanks and reward for his heroic action in risk- 
ing his life for the salvation of others; but the 
Bard excused himself, saying that he must start 
by daylight for his last stretch to London, and only 
asked from the young ladies a sprig of boxwood 
and lock of their golden hair. 

At parting the father threw William a bag of 
gold, and the girls presented him with the tokens 
desired, in addition to impulsive bashful kisses. 

We were off promptly by sunrise, and steering 
our course to Houndslow, Brentford, Kensington, 
and to the top of Primrose Hill, we first caught 
sight of the spires, domes, turrets, temples and 
palaces of multitudinous, universal London. 

"London, the needy villains general home. 
The common sewer of Paris and of Rome; 
With eager thirst hy folly or by fate, 
SucTcs in the dregs of each corrupted state," 



36 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTEE V. 

LONDON. ITS GUILT AND GLORY. 

^'TJiey say^ test men are molded out of faults; 
And for the most, become much more the better 
For being a little bad/' 

It was on the 13th of September, 1586, that 
William and myself first feasted our eyes on the 
variegated wilderness of wood, mortar, stone and 
tile of wonderful London. 

The evening was bright and clear, while a north- 
west wind blew away the smoky clouds that hov- 
ered over the city like a funeral pall, displaying 
to our view the silver sinuosities of old Father 
Thames, as he moved in sluggish grandeur by West- 
minster, Blackfriars Bridge, the Tower, and to 
Gravesend, on his way to the channel and the sea. 

To get a grand view of the town, an old sexton 
advised us to climb the steeple steps of crumbling 
Saint Mary's, that once felt the tread of the Cru- 
saders, and heard the chanting hymn of monks, 
nuns and friars five hundred years before. 

Standing on a broken column of the old steeple, 
three hundred feet above Primrose Hill, William 
struck an attitude of theatrical fashion and ut- 
tered the following oratorical flight : 

351 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Glorious London! Leviathan of human greed; 
Palpitating hot-hed of iniquity and joy, 
GreelCj Roman, Spanish, Saxon, Kelt, Scot, 
Pict, Norman and Dane 
Have swept over thee lihe winter storms; 
And the mighty Ccesar, Julius of old. 
With a myriad of huchlered warriors 
And one hundred galleons of sailors 
Triple-oared mariners, defying wave and fate. 
Have ploughed the placid face of Father Thames, 
Startling the loud cry of hawTc and bittern 
As his royal prows grated on thy strand. 
Or slcimmed over the marshes of thy infancy. 
Yet, amid all the wrechs of human ambition 
Where Pagan, Jew, Buddhist, TurTc and Christian 
Struggled for the mastery of gold and power. 
You still march forward, giant-lihe and brave. 
Facing the morning of progress and liberty. 
Carrying thy cross and crown to all lands — 
And with thy grand flotilla, chartered by Neptune 
Remain mistress of all the seas, defiant — 
The roar of thy cannon and drum beats 
Heard with pride and glory around the world! 
Sad, how sad, to thinJc that the day will come 
When not a vestige of this wonderful mass 
Of human energy shall remain; 
Where the cry of the wolf, bat and bittern 
Shall only be heard, and Nature again 
Resume her rustic, splendid desolation! 
Cities older and far greater than this, 
'Dreaming of everlasting endurance. 
Have been long since buried in desert sands. 
Or engulfed in the pitiless wa/ves of ocean. 
Lost foremr from the rusty records 

3a 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Of Time^ the tyrant and tomb huilder 

Of man, vain insect of a moment. 

Who promises himself immortality. 

And then disappears like the mist of mountains. 

Or wandering meteors that sparhle and darhle 

In the midnight of oblivion! 

We quickly descended from the steeple, passed 
by Buckingham Palace, Eegent Park, British Mu- 
seum, through Chancery Lane into Fleet street, 
by Ludgate Hill, under the shadow of old bat- 
tered Saint Paul's Church on to the Devil's Tav- 
ern, near Blackfriars Bridge, where we found gay 
and comfortable lodgings for the night, it being 
twelve o'clock when we shook hands with Meg 
Mullen, the rubicund landlady. 

The Devil's Tavern was a resort for actors, au- 
thors, bohemians, lords and ladies, who did not 
retire early to their downy couches. 

The night we arrived the tavern was crowded, 
as the Actors' Annual Ball was in progress, and 
many fair women and brave men belated by 
Bacchus could not find their way home, and were 
compelled to remain all night and be cared for by 
the host of the Devil. 

I told "Meg" we were Stratford boys, come up 
to London to seek our fortune, and set the Thames 
afire with our genius. 

Plucking the "^^rosy" dame aside, I informed her 
that William Shakspere was a poet, author, actor 
and philosopher; and, while he was posing over 
the counter, smiling at a blooming barmaid, he 
looked the picture of his own immortal Eomeo. 
Meg told me in a quizzical tone that the town was 

39 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

full of poets and actors, and that the surrounding 
playhouses could hire them for ten shillings a 
week, with sack and bread and cheese thrown in 
every Saturday night. 

After a hasty supper, I tossed Meg a golden 
guinea to pay score, as if it were a shilling, to con- 
vince her that we were of the upper crust of bohe- 
mians, not strollers from the Strand, or penny pup- 
pets from Eastcheap or Smithfield. 

After passing back the change, Meg sent a gay 
and festive porter to light us to the top cock-loft 
of the tavern, -Ryb stairs up, among the windows 
and angled gables of the tile roof. 

A tallow dip and coach candle lit up the room, 
which was large, containing two Eoman couches 
with quilts, robes and blankets, a stout table, two 
oak chairs, a pewter basin, and a large stone jug 
filled with water. 

The tavern seemed to be on the banks of the 
Thames, for we could see through the two large 
windows, flitting lights as if boats and ships were 
moving on the water, while across the bridge old 
Southwark could be seen in the midnight glare 
as if it were a field of Jack-o'-lanterns moving in 
mystic parade. 

William and myself soon found rest in deep 
slumber, and wafted away into a dreamless realm, 
our tired bodies lay in the enfolding arms of 
Morpheus until the porter knocked at our door 
the next morning as the clock of the tower struck 
the hour of nine. 

Our first sight of sunrise in London gave us 
great expectations of fame and fortune — ^for surely 
all we had was glowing expectations. 

40 



Shakspere; Personal Recollections 

"Oft expectation fails^ and most oft there 
Where most it promises; and oft it hits 
Where hope is coldest and despair most fits." 

While William stood gazing out of the roof 
windows of the Devil's Tavern on the moving, 
meandering population of London as they passed 
below on lane, street and stream, by foot, car or 
boat, he heaved a long drawn sigh, turned to me 
and said, "Jack, what do you think of London ?'^ 

"I like its whirl, dash and roar, far better than 
mingling with the rural milk-sops and innocent 
maidens of Warwick. Here we can work and 
climb to the top of the ladder of fame, while you, 
dear Will, will not be battered in ear by crying 
kids and tongue-lashing spouse/^ 

Brushing away a tear of sorrow, no doubt for 
the absence of loved ones at Stratford, he dashed 
down the stairs, and was soon in the jolly whirl- 
pool of tavern loungers, where beaming Meg 
greeted us with a smiling face, having prepared 
in advance a fine breakfast, smoking hot from the 
busy kitchen of the Devil. 

In passing out of the dining room, Meg led us 
through a back hall into a low, long room, where 
a number of 'ladies" and "gentlemen" were as- 
sembled about a round table, playing "cut the 
card," "spring the top" and "throw the dice;" 
small piles of silver and gold stacked in front of 
each player, while the "King's Dealer," or fat 
Jack Stafford, lost or paid all bets on "call." 

William and myself were incidentally intro- 
duced to the motley gang as young ^*bloods" from 
Warwick, who had just entered London for fame 

41 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

and fortune. The conclave rose with extreme 
politeness^ and Jack as spokesman welcomed ns to 
their bosoms (so to speak), and asked if we would 
not "sit up and take a hand/' 

I respectfully declined, but William, surcharged 
with sorrow or flushed with ambition, bethought of 
the guineas in his pocket and belt, and called for the 
"dice box/' "Deuces" won double and "sixes'^ 
treble coin. 

William, to the great amazement of the dealer, 
flung a guinea in the center pot, which was im- 
mediately tapped by Jack, while the others looked 
on in silent expectation. 

Grasping the dice box, he whirled it in his 
grasp, rattling the ^1)ones" in triumphant glee and 
threw on the table three "sixes," thus abstracting 
from the inside pocket of the "Gentleman" at the 
head of the table, twenty-seven guineas. 

Pushing back the coin and dice box, William 
proposed another throw, which was smilingly 
consented to by the "child of Fortune," and grasp- 
ing the box, the Bard clicked the "ivories" and 
flung on the table three aces, which by the rule of 
the game, gave all the coin to the "Eoyal" dealer. 

William never winced or hesitated, but pulling 
from his waist a buckskin belt, threw it on the 
table, exclaiming, "There's fifteen guineas I wager 
on the next throw." 

The polite Jack replied, "All right, sir, take your 
word for it." 

William frantically said : 

"I have set my life upon a cast. 
And will stand the hazard of the die!'' 

42 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Then, with a round whirl, he threw three 
^^aces" again, rose from the table and bolted out of 
the room like a shot from a blunderbuss. 

I immediately followed in his footsteps and 
found him joking with the landlady about a 
couple of infant bull pups she was fondling in. 
her capacious lap. 

At this juncture, who should appear on the scene 
but Dick Field, the first cousin of William, who 
had been in London a few years engaged in the 
printing and publishing business. 

If he had dropped out of the clouds William 
could not have been more pleased or surprised, 
and the feeling was reciprocal. 

The printing shop of Field was only a short 
distance from the Devil's Tavern, and we were 
invited to visit the establishment. On our way 
we passed by the Blackfriars, Curtain, In Yard, 
Paris and Devil theatres, interspersed with hurdy- 
gurdy concert hall, sailor and soldier, gin and 
sack vaults, where blear-eyed belles and battered 
beaux vied with each other in fantastic intoxica- 
tion. 

Field did a lot of rough printing for the vari- 
ous theatres, issuing bill posters, announcing 
plays, and setting up type sheets for actors and 
managers, in their daily concerts and dramas for 
the public amusement. 

As luck would have it, old James Burbage and 
his son Dick were waiting for Field, with a lot of 
dramatic manuscript that must be put in print at 
once. 

We were casually introduced to the great the- 



43 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

atrical magnate Burbage, as relatives from Strat- 
ford who were just then in search of work. 

James Burbage gazed for a moment on the 
manly form of William and blurted out in his 
bluff manner, "What do you know?^' 

Quick as a flash William replied : "I know more 
than those who know less, and know less than those 
who know more." 

"Sharp answer, ^oy.' See me to-morrow at 
the Blackfriars at noon.'^ 

We turned aside and left Field and Burbage 
to their business; while Dick Burbage, the gay 
theatrical rake, invited us across the way to the 
Bull's Head, where we irrigated our anatomy, and 
then returned to the printing shop. 

Field informed me that he had given us a great 
setting up with old Burbage; and would see his 
partner Greene, the playwright, and add to our. 
recommendation for energy and learning. 

We were invited to dine with Field that even- 
ing at eight o'clock at the Boar's Head Tavern, 
where Dame Quickly dispensed the best food and 
fluid of the lower town, and where the wags and 
wits of all lands congregated in security. 

"At the very witching time of night 
When church yards yawn and hell itself 
Breathes out contagion to this world/* 



M 



Shakspcre: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER VI. 

TAVERNS. THEATRES. VARIEGATED SOCIETY. 

"Men's evil manners live in hrass; 
Their virtues we write in water/* 

The Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap was one 
of the oldest and best inns in London for free and 
easy rollicking mood, where prince and peasant, 
king or clown, papist or puritan were welcome 
night and day, provided they intended no wrong 
and kept good nature aglow even in their cups. 
Magistrate and convent prior would sometimes 
raid the tavern until their physical and financial 
wants were satisfied. 

Dame Quickly, with ruffled collar, was the mas- 
ter spirit of the house, and had been its light and 
glory for thirty years. Her round, full face, fat 
neck and robust form was a constant invitation 
for good cheer, and her matchless wit was a mar- 
vel to the guests that nightly congregated through 
her three-story gabled stone monastery. 

A tavern is the best picture of human folly, 
nature wearing no garb of hypocrisy. 

You must know that the Boar's Head had once 
been the home of the "Blackfriars," then a resi- 
dence of a bishop, a convent, a brewery, and 
finally fell into the hands of the grandfather of 

fl5 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Dame Quickly, who bequeathed it to his posterity 
and the public as a depot for plum pudding, 
roast beef, lamb, birds, fish, ale, wine, brandy and 
universal pleasure. A boar's head, with a red 
light in its mouth was kept constantly burning 
from sunset to sunrise, where wandering human- 
ity found welcome and rest. 

Supper parties from the adjacent theatres filled 
the tavern in midnight hours, where actors, au- 
thors, politicians, statesmen and ladies of all hue, 
reveled in jolly, generous freedom, beneath the 
ever-present superintendence of buxom Dame 
Quickly. 

"The gods are just, and oft our pleasant vices 
MaTce instruments to scourge us. 
Boys, immature in Tcnowledge, 
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure.** 

The main bar, decorated with variegated lights 
and shining blue bottles and glasses, with pewter 
and silver mugs in theatrical rows, lent a kind of 
enchantment to the nightly scene. Bound, square 
and octagonal oak tables were scattered through 
the various rooms, and rough leather lounges 
skirted the walls. 

Promptly at eight o'clock William and myself 
passed the stony portals of the Boar's Head, and 
were ushered into the back ground floor dining 
room where we met our friend Field and a play- 
wright named Christopher Marlowe, standing be- 
fore a great open chimney, with a blazing fire and a 
splendid supper. 

Field seemed to take great pride in making us 

46- 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

acquainted with Marlowe, the greatest actor and 
dramatist of his day, whose plays were even then 
the talk and delight of London. 

"Tamberlaine the Great" and "Dr. Faustns" 
had been successfully launched at the Blackfriars, 
and young Marlowe was in his glory, the wit and 
toast of the town. He was but twenty-five years of 
age, finely formed, a voluptuary, high jutting 
forehead, dark hazel eye, and a typical image of a 
bohemian poet. It was a toss up as to who was the 
handsomest man, William or Marlowe, yet a stran- 
ger, on close inspection could see glinting out of 
William's eye a divine light and flashing expres- 
sion that ever commanded respect and admiration. 
He was unlike any other mortal. 

I, alone at that period, knew the bursting ability 
of William; and that his granary of knowledge 
was full to the brim, needing only an opportunity 
to flood the world with immortal sonnets, Venus 
and Adonis, and the incubating passion plays that 
lay struggling in his burning brain for universal 
recognition. 

During the evening young actors, politicians, 
college students and roystering lords, filled the 
house and by twelve o'clock Bacchanalian folly 
ruled the madcaps of the town, while batteTed 
Venus with bedraggled hair and skirts languished 
in sensuous display. 

Field requested his friend Marlowe to recite a 
few lines from "Dr. Faustus" for our instruction 
and pleasure, and forthwith he gave the soliloquy 
of Faust, waiting at midnight for Lucifer to carry 
him to hell, the terrified Doctor exclaiming to the 
devil ; 

'47 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

"Oh mercy! Jieaven, look not so fierce on mej 
Adders and serpents ^ let me hreathe awhile; 
Ugly hell gape not; come not^ Lucifer; 
III burn my hooTcs; oh! Mephistopheles !" 

And then mellowing his sonorous voice, gives thus 
his classical apostrophe to Helen of Greece : 

"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships 
And burned the topless towers of Illium? 
Sweet Helen, maTce me immortal with a Tciss! 
Her lips such forth my soul — see where it Hies; 
Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again; 
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips. 
And all is dross that is not Helena. 
O, thou art fairer than the evening air. 
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars! 
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter, 
When he appeared to hapless Semele; 
More lovely than the monarch of the sTcy 
In wanton Arethusa's azure arms; 
And none but thou shalt be my paramour!" 

A loud round of applause greeted the rendition 
of the classical poem, not only at our own table, 
hut through the entire hall and adjacent rooms. 

At a table not far away sat a number of illus- 
trious gentlemen, favorites of Queen Elizabeth 
and greatly admired by the people. 

There sat Sir Walter Ealeigh, lately returned 
from discoveries in America; Francis Bacon, At- 
torney-General to the Crown ; Earl Essex, the court 
favorite; Lord Southampton, the gayest in the 
realm; with young Burleigh, Cecil and Leicester, 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

making night melodious with their songs, speeches 
and tinkling silver wine cups. 

The young lords insisted that we give another 
recitation, pictorial of love and passion. Marlowe 
declined to say more, but knowing that William 
had hatched out his crude verses of Venus and 
Adonis, I insisted that he deliver a few stanzas 
for the enthusiastic audience, particularly describ- 
ing the passionate pleadings of Venus to the stal- 
lion Adonis. 

Without hesitation, trepidation or excuse, Wil- 
liam arose in manly attitude and drew a picture 
of beautiful Venus : 

^'SomeMmes she shakes her head and then his hand. 
Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; 
Sometimes her arms infold him lihe a hand; 
She would, he will not in her arms he hound; 
And ivhen from thence he struggles to he gone 
She loclcs her lily fingers one in one! 

'' 'Fondling' she saith, ^since I have hemmed thee 
here. 
Within the circuit of this ivory pale, 
ril he a parTc, and thou shalt he my deer; 
Feed where thou wilt on mountain or in dale; 
Graze on my lips; and if those hills he dry. 
Stray lower where the pleasant fountains lie. 

" 'Within this limit is relief enough. 
Sweet hottom grass and high delightful plain. 
Round rising hillochs, hrahe ohscure and rough 
To shelter thee from tempest and from rain; 
Then he my deer since I am such a park — 
No dog shall rouse thee though a thousand harTcF " 

49 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

When he dropped in his chair the revelers went 
wild with enthusiasm, and Marlowe and Southamp- 
ton wished to know where the ^^Stratford Boy'' 
got the poem ! 

William smiled, tapped his forehead and tossed 
off a bumper of brandy to the cheers that still de- 
manded more mental food. 

But as it was two by the clock, onr friend Field 
suggested that we retire, when Marlow and himself 
took ns in a carriage to the Devil Tavern, where 
we slept off our first spree in London. 

''0 thou invisible spirit of wine. 
If thou hast no name to he Jcnown hy. 
Let us call thee Devil T 

We arose the next morning a little groggy, and 
William had a shade of melancholy remorse flash 
over his usually bright countenance. 

He abstractedly remarked: "Well, Jack, we are 
making a fine start for fame and fortune. The 
stride we took last night, at the Boar's Head, will 
soon land us in Newgate or Parliament V" 

I replied that it made little difference to intel- 
lectual artists whether they served their country 
in prison or in Parliament, for many a man was 
in Newgate who might honor Parliament, and 
many secret scoundrels who had not been caught 
should be inmates of Newgate, or, if equal justice 
prevailed, their bodies be dangling on the heights 
of Tyburn! 

^'A Daniel come to judgment; yea, a Daniel! 
wise young judge, how I do honor theeT 



no 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Poise the cause in justice' equal scales. 
Whose beam stands sure? 

It was ten o'clock when we stretched our weary 
legs under the breakfast table of Meg Mullen, who 
had prepared for us a quartette of fat mutton 
chops, with salt pork, baked potatoes, a huge ome- 
let and a boiling pot of black tea, sent, as she said, 
by the Emperor of China for the guests of the 
Boars Head Tavern ! 

Meg was a jolly wench, and garnished her food 
with pleasant words and witty quips, believing 
that love and laughter aided digestion and cheered 
the traveler in his journey of life. 

I reminded William that he had a business en- 
gagement with the great theatrical monarch, Kich- 
ard Burbage, at noon at the Blackfriars. 

The Bard was ready for a stroll, and after 
brushing our clothes and smiling at the variegated 
guests, we sauntered into the street toward the 
Thames, and soon found the entrance to the re- 
nowned Blackfriars Theatre. 

A call-boy ushered us into the presence of the 
great actor and manager, who greeted us with a 
snappish "Good morning!" 

A number of authors and actors were waiting 
their turn to see the prince of players, whose sig- 
net of approval or disapproval finished their ex- 
pectations. It was Saturday and pay day. 

Turning abruptly to William, the proprietor 
said: "I understand you know something about 
theatres and acting?" 

"Try me; you shall be my judge." 

"Then, sir, from this hour you are appointed 

51 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

assistant property man and assistant prompter for 
the Blackfriars, at sixteen shillings a week, with 
chance of promotion, if you deserve it ! 

^^^Your business hours shall be from noon, every 
week day, until five o'clock ; and from eight o'clock 
in the night until eleven o'clock, when you are at 
liberty until the next day! 

"Do you accept the work?"' 

William promptly replied: 

"I accept with immeasurable thanks, and like 
Caesar of old, I cross the dramatic Kubicon." 

The Bard was then introduced to Bull Billings, 
the chief property man and prompter, who at 
once initiated William into the machinery secrets 
of the stage, with its scenes, ropes, chains, masks, 
moons, gods, swords, bucklers, guns, pikes, torches, 
wheels, chairs, thrones, giants, wigs, hats, bonnets, 
robes, brass jewels, kings, queens, dukes, lords, and 
all the other paraphernalia of dramatic exhibition. 

William was now launched upon the ocean of 
theatrical suns and storms, with Nature for his 
guide and everlasting glory for his name. 

^'Loivliness is young ambition's ladder ^ 
Whereto the cliniber turns his face; 
But when he once attains the utmost round. 
He then unto the ladder turns his hachj, 
Loohs in the clouds, scorning the hose degrees 
By which he did ascend!'* 



53 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER VII. 

THEATRICAL DRUDGERY. COMPOSITIONS. 

''Sweet are the uses of adversity. 
Which, nice the toad, ugly and venomous. 
Wears yet a precious jewel in its head/* 

Shakspere had now his foot firmly planted on 
the lower round of the ladder of fame, whose top 
leaned against the skies of immortality ! 

The fermentation of composition began again 
to work within his seething brain^ and the daily 
demands of the Blackfriars spurred him on to 
emulate if not surpass Kyd, Lodge, Greene and 
Marlowe. 

During the time Shakspere had been a strolling 
player through the middle towns of England he 
had studied the works of Ovid and Petrarch, and 
read with pleasure the sonnets and Arcadia of 
Sir Philip Sidney. 

While playing at Kenilworth, the Lady Anne 
Manners, young and beautiful cousin to the Earl 
of Leicester, honored the young actor with great 
praise for his part in playing the Lover in "Love's 
Conquest.^' She presented the Bard with a bunch 
of immortelles, that, even when withered, he always 

53 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

kept in an inside pocket, and at various times com- 
posed sonnets to his absent admirer, playing 
Petrarch to another Laura. 

The languishing, luscious, lascivious poem of 
^^Venus and Adonis" was really inspired by the 
remembrance of Miss Manners, and imagination 
pictured himself and the lady as the principals 
in the sensuous situation ! 

William, like Dame Nature, was full of life- 
sap, that circled through his body and brain with 
constant motion and sought an outlet for the sur- 
plus volume of ideal knowledge, in theatrical ac- 
tion, teaching lessons of right and wrong, with 
vice and virtue struggling forever for the mastery 
of mankind. 

The Bard worked night and day in his duties 
as theatrical drudge for the Blackfriars, and made 
himself valuable and solid with old Burbage, who 
saw in the young actor a marvelous development 
of new thought and force, that had never before 
been seen on the British stage. 

In a few weeks Bull Billings was discharged for 
tyranny and drunkenness, and my friend William 
was given the place of chief property man and 
prompter. 

Various plays were put on and off the Black- 
friars stage, through the hisses or cheers of the 
motley audience, the autocrats of the "pit" seeming 
to be the real umpires of the cessation or continu- 
ance of the most noted plays. 

The last week in October, 1586, was a mournful 
time for London, as the greatest favorite of Queen 
Elizabeth, Sir Philip Sidney, was to receive a State 
funeral at Saint Paul's. 

54 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

All England went in mourning for the hand- 
some cavalier and poet, who lost his life at the 
siege of Axel, in the Netherlands, while serving as 
chief of cavalry under his uncle, the Earl of 
Leicester. 

All business closed in honor of the young hero, 
and the celebrated military organization, the "An- 
cient and Honorable Artillery,^^ led more than 
thirty thousand of the "train bands," who followed 
in the great procession to Saint Paul's Church. 

The sacerdotal service began at noon, and Queen 
Elizabeth rode in a golden car on a dark purple 
throne to witness the last rites in honor of her 
court favorite. 

The bells of London churches, temples, turrets, 
and towers rang continually until sundown, filling 
the air with a universal requiem of grief, while the 
black clouds hanging over the metropolis shed 
showers of tears for the untimely loss of a patriot 
and a poet. 

William and/myself saw the funeral car from 
the steps of St. Paul, and as the coffin was carried 
in on the shoulders of eight stalwart soldiers, 
dressed in the golden garb of the Horse Battalions, 
we bowed our heads in holy adoration to the mem- 
ory and valor of the sonnet-maker — lost in eternal 
sleep. 

''Come, sleep, sleep, the certain Jcnot of peace. 
The halting place of wit, the 'balm of woe. 
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release — 
The indifferent judge between the high and 
low!" 



b^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

How truthful this extract from one of Sidney's 
sonnets ! 

He was a synonym of bravery and politeness ; for 
being carried from the field of battle, thirsty and 
bleeding, he called for a cup of water, and just 
as he was lifting it to his lips a fatally wounded 
soldier was being carried by who fixed his longing 
eyes eagerly on the cup— and instanter, the gay and 
gallant Sidney delivered the drink to the poor sol- 
dier, saying : "Thy necessity is greater than mine !" 

Noble self-sacrifice, elemental generosity, im- 
perial nature, sublime and benevolent in thought 
and act! 

On our return to the Devil Tavern for supper 
we found Manager Burbage, of Blackfriars, await- 
ing us. He was in great haste and desired William 
to look over a play that had been submitted by 
Greene and Lodge, who composed it jointly. 

It was a comedy-tragedy, entitled "Looking Glass 
of London," in three rambling acts, and while Bur- 
bage was disposed to take the play and pay for it, 
he desired that Shakspere should give it such rip- 
ping corrections as he thought best. 

This was surely showing great confidence in a 
young actor and author — ^to criticise the play of 
acknowledged dramatists who had been the talk of 
the town. 

Shakspere modestly remarked : "I fear, sir, your 
friends. Lodge and Greene, will not like or tolerate 
my cutting of their play.'' 

"Care not for their opinion! Do as I say, and 
have the play ready for staging Monday afternoon 
at two o'clock." 

"Your command is law, and I obey," said the 

50 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Bard — and out rushed the bluffing, busy Burbage. 

The constant circulation of bohemian customers, 
day and night about the DeviFs Tavern, was not 
conducive to careful composition of plays, and 
William and myself moved to modest quarters near 
Paris Garden, kept by a Miss Maggie Mellow, a 
blonde maiden of uncertain age. 

William continued to perform his theatrical 
duties diligently, while I was engaged at the print- 
ing shop of Field, translating historic, dramatic 
and poetic works from Latin authors, thus piecing 
out the price of food, clothes and shelter in the 
whirlpool of London joy and misery. 

During my apprenticeship with Sam Granite, 
as a marble cutter, I spent my nights with Master 
Hunt studying the intricate windings of the Latin 
language, and became proficient in the translation 
of ancient authors, delving also into the philosophy 
of Greek roots, with its Attic phrases and Athenian 
eloquence. 

My parents desired me to leave off the trade of 
stone cutting and prepare for the priesthood, where 
I could make an easier living, working on the fears, 
egotism and hopes of mankind. 

I was always too blunt to play the velvet phi- 
losopher and saint-like character of a sacerdotal 
vicaro of any church or creed, feeling full well that 
the so-called divine teacher and pupil know just as 
much about the ^"Tiereafter" as I do — and that's 
nothing ! Put not thy faith in wind, variable and 
inconstant. 

So, a life of bohemian hack-work for printers, 
publishers and theatrical managers seemed best 
suited to my nature, giving me perfect freedom of 

57i 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

thought and a disposition to express my honest 
opinion to prince or peasant, in home, church or 
state. 

God is God, and N'ature is His representative ! 

While man, vain creature of an hour. 
Depressed hy grief or blessed hy power 
Is hut a shadow and a name — 
A flash of evanescent fame! 

Most of the dramatic writers during the reigns 
of Henry the Eighth, Elizabeth, James the First, 
and Charles the Second, were graduates of Oxford, 
Cambridge or other classical halls of learning. 
They borrowed their plots and characters from an- 
cient history and endeavored to galvanize them 
into English subjects, tickling the ears of the 
groundlings, as well as their royal patrons with 
Grecian and Roman translations of lofty allegorical 
and mythological conceptions. 

^schylus, Euripides, Sophocles and Homer, 
with Terence, Tacitus, Virgil, Horace and Ovid, 
were constantly pillaged for thoughts to piece out 
the theatrical robes and blani: verse eloquence of 
pla3rw^rights who only received for their best ac- 
cepted works from five to twenty pounds; pro- 
prietors and stage managers driving hard bargains 
with these brilliant, bacchanalian and impecunious 
bohemians. 

The winter and spring of 1587-8 was a busy 
time for William. In addition to his prompting 
and casting the various plays for Burbage, he was 
engaged in collecting his sonnets, putting finish- 
ing touches on "Venus and Adonis/^ as well as 

58 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

composing the ^^Eape of Lucreee," a Eoman epic^; 
based on historic truth. 

He had also planned and mapped out the Eng- 
lish play of "Henry the Fourth," taken from an 
old historical play, and was figuring on two com- 
edies — "Midsummer N'ight's Dream" and the 
"Merry Wives of Windsor." 

Often when entering his workroom at twelve 
o'clock at night, or six o'clock in the morning, I 
found him scratching, cutting, and delving away at 
his literary bench and oak chest. 

He could work at three or four plays alternately, 
and, from crude plots taken out of ancient history, 
novels, religious or mythological tableaus, devised 
his characters and put words in their mouths that 
burned in the ears of British yeomen, tradesmen, 
professional sharpers and lords and ladies who 
crowded the benches and boxes of the Blackfriars. 

He reminded me of an expert cabinet-maker, 
who had piled up in a corner of his shop a variety 
lot of rough timber, from which he fashioned and 
manufactured the most exquisite dressers, sofas 
and bureaus, dovetailing each piece of oak, rose- 
wood or mahogany, with exact workmanship, and 
then with the silken varnish of his genius, sending 
his wares out to the rushing world to be admired, 
and transmitted to posterity, with perfect faith in 
the endurance of his creations ! 

In putting the finishing touches on the fifth act 
of a play he would quickly change to the com- 
position of the first act of another, and, with 
lightning rapidity embellish the characters in the 
third act of some comedy, tragedy or history, that 
constantly occupied his multifarious brain. 

o9 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

His working den at the Blackfriars was crowded 
with a mass of theatrical literary productions, an- 
cient and modern, while onr lodging rooms were 
piled np with Latin, Greek, Spanish and French 
translations. 

Manager Burbage, Dick Field and even Chris 
Marlowe were constantly patronizing the wonder- 
ful William, and supplied him with the iron ore 
products of the ancient and middle ages, which he 
quickly fashioned into the laminated steel of dra- 
matic excellence. 

''Why, man, lie doth bestride the narrow world 
Like a Colossus; and we petty men 
Walh under his huge legs and peep ahout 
To find ourselves dishonorable graves/' 



60 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER VIII. 

GROWING LITERARY RENOWN". ROYAL PATRONS. 

"Follow your envious oourses, men of malice; 
You have Christian warrant for them, and, no 

douM, 
In time will find their fit rewards." 

"0 heware, my lord, of jealousy; 

It is the green-eyed monster, which doth moch 

The meat it feeds on." 

The literary and dramatic world of London in 
the years 1589 to 1592 was stirred with pride and 
astonishment at the productions of William Shak- 
spere, and from the tavern and guilds of trades- 
men to the crack clubs of authors, lords and 
royalty itself, the Dramatic Magician of the Black- 
friars was praised to the skies and sought for by 
even Queen Elizabeth, who saw more than another 
Edmund Spenser to glorify her reign and flash 
her name down the ages with even finer, luminous 
colors than bedecked the sylvan pathway of the 
Faerie Queen! 

"Kie Earl of Leicester was one of the first great 
men of England to recognize the divine accom- 
plishments of the Warwickshire boy who had made 

.61 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

liis first theatrical adventures through the domain 
of the old Earl, and who was ever the friend of 
old John Shakspere, the impecunious and agnostic 
father of our brilliant Bard. 

On the death of the old Earl in the autumn of 
1588, his domain reverted to his stepson, the 
young Earl of Essex, who continued to be the pat- 
ron of letters and often attended the Blackfriars, 
with his friend, the handsome and intellectual 
Earl of Southampton, Henry Wriothesley, who 
took the greatest interest in the plays of "Love's 
Labor's Lost," "Two Gentlemen of Verona," "King 
John," "Henry the Fourth, "Henry the Fifth," 
and "Henry the Sixth," that were then fermenting 
in the brain of William. 

He had ransacked the history of HoUingshead 
and others to illustrate on the stage the civil wars 
between the houses of York and Lancaster, known 
as the war of the Eed and White Roses, with can- 
ker and thorn to pester each royal clan and bring 
misery on the British people because of a family 
quarrel ! 

''Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown/' 

What have Kings that privates have not too. 
Save ceremony f 

The jealousy of Kyd, Lodge and Greene con- 
tinued to secretly knife the Stratford butcher boy, 
but the more they tried to cough him down the 
more he rose in public estimation, until finally 
these little vipers of spite and spleen gave up their 
secret scandal chase, when, like a roebuck from the 

6^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

forest of Arden or Caledonian heather crags, he 
flashed out of sight of all the dramatic and poetic 
hounds who pursued him, and ever after looked 
down from the imperial heights of Parnassus at 
the dummies of theatrical pretense. 

They accused him of wholesale plagiarism and of 
robbing the archives of every land for raw material 
to build up his comedies, tragedies and histories. 

He laughed and worked on, night and day, ac- 
knowledging the "soft impeachment" of his liter- 
ary integrity, but at the same time defied them to 
equal or surpass the marvelous characters he cre- 
ated for the edification and glory of mankind ! 

Yet, while he had a few envious literary, political 
and religious detractors, he was building up con- 
stantly a bulwark of sentimental and material 
friends in London that kept his name on the tongue 
of thinkers in home, tavern, club and palace. 

The keen and generous Burbage knew the in- 
trinsic value of Shakspere, and to tie him to the 
interest of the Blackfriars, he gradually increased 
the Bard's salary and gave him an interest in the 
stock company. Yet, other theatres staged his 
plays. 

Edmund Spenser, the greatest rhythmic poet of 
his day, author of the "Faerie Queen,'' and prime 
favorite of Sidney and Queen Elizabeth, was lavish 
in his praise of the rising dramatist, while Michael 
Drayton and Christopher Marlowe vied with each 
other in admiration of the newly discovered star of 
intellectual brilliancy that glittered unceasingly in 
the sky of poetic and philosophic letters. 

Essex, Southampton, Ealeigh, Bacon, Mon- 
mouth, Derby, Norfolk, Northumberland, Percy, 

<63 



ShaKspere: Personal Recollections 

Burleigh, Cecil, Montague, and many other lords 
of London club life, gave a ready adherence to 
Shakspere, and after his mighty acting on the 
Blackfriars and other stages, struggled with each 
other as to who should have the honor of enter- 
taining him at the gay midnight suppers that de- 
lighted the amusement world of London. 

One of the most valuable friends William en- 
countered in London was John Florio, a Floren- 
tine, the greatest linguist of his day, who had trav- 
eled in all lands and gathered nuggets of thought 
in every clime. He spoke Spanish, Italian, French, 
German and Greek, with the accent of a native, 
and had but recently translated the works of Mon- 
taigne, the great French philosopher. The Her- 
bert-Southampton family patronized him. 

When not employed at the various theatres, the 
Stratford miracle could be found at the rooms of 
his friend Florio, at the "Red Lion," across the 
street from Temple Bar, where law students, 
bailiffs and barristers made day and night merry 
with their professional antics. 

William employed Florio to teach him the tech- 
nical and philosophic merits of the Greek and 
Latin languages, and at the same time furnish 
him with ancient stories that he might dramatize 
into English classics, and astonish the native 
writers by dressing up old subjects in new frocks, 
cloaks, robes and crowns. 

Florio would often read by the hour, gems of 
Latin, Greek and French philosophy, and explain 
to us the intricate phrases of Virgil, Ovid, Ter- 
ence, Homer, ^schylus, Plutarch, Demosthenes, 
Plato, Petrarch and Dante, while William drank 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Tip his imparted laiowledge as freely and quickly 
as the sun in his course inhales the sparkling dew- 
drops from garden^ vale and mountain. 

In the spring of 1591 William and myself paid 
a flying visit to Stratford, the Bard to pay up some 
family debts and bury a brother who had recently 
migrated to the land of imagination. 

The mother and father of William were de- 
lighted at the London success of their son, and 
Anne Hathaway seemed to be mellowed and molli- 
fied by the guineas William emptied into her lap, 
while Hammet and Judith, the rollicking children, 
were rampant with delight at the toys, sweetmeats 
and dresses presented as Easter offerings. 

No matter what the incompatibility of temper 
between William and Anne, he never forgot to 
send part of his wages for the support of herself 
and children, and although he was a "free lance'^ 
among the ladies of London, he maintained the 
"higher law" of family purity and morality. 

When he violated any of the ten commandments, 
he did it with his eyes open, and took the conse- 
quent mental or physical punishment with stoic 
indifference. He never called on others to shoulder 
his sins, but on the contrary he often bore the 
burden of cowardly "friends,^' who made him the 
"scapegoat" for their own iniquity — a common class 
of scoundrels. 

He never bothered himself about the religion 
manufacturers of mankind, knowing that the whole 
scheme, from the Oriental sunworshipers to the 
quarreling crowd of Pagans, Hebrews, Christians 
and Moslems, was nothing but a keen financial 
syndicate or trust to keep sacerdotal sharpers in 

65 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

place and power at the expense of plodding igno- 
rance^ hope and bigotry ! 

The night we started back for London, by jaunt- 
ing car, on the road to Oxford, the Bard was in a 
mood of lofty contemplation. He had stowed 
away in the bottom of the car, a mass of school- 
day and strolling-player compositions, evolved in 
the rush of vanished years. 

"William,^' said I, "can yon tell me anything 
abont the silence of those sparkling, eternal stars 
and planets ?" 

He instantly replied: 

I question the infinite silence. 

And endeavor to fathom the deep 
That rests in the ocean of Tcnowledge 

And dreams in the heaven of sleep; 
And I soar with the wing of science. 

Its mysterious realm to explore. 
But the wail of the wild sea hrealcers 

^Drowns my soul in the Nevermore; 
For the answer of finite wisdom 

Is as fichle as ambient air. 
And my wrecTcage of hopes are scattered 

On the rocTcs and shores of despair! 

Arriving at the Crown Tavern, in Oxford, we 
were, as nsnal, received by the old Boniface Deva- 
nant and his handsome wife, with warm words and 
Inxnrions table cheer. After a day and night of 
reasonable revelry, we proceeded on our way to 
London, and in due course found our sunny lodg- 
ings at the home of Maggie Mellow. 

66 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The night after our arrival Sir Walter Kaleigh 
gave a grand banquet at the Mermaid Club to 
the principal wits of London. 

Burbage^, Florio-, Field, William and myself were 
invited as special guests, in honor of the poetic 
and dramatic association. 

Eepresentative authors and actors of the various 
theatrical companies were present at the festive 
war of wits. 

The Queen^s men, and those who played under 
the patronage of Leicester, Pembroke, Burleigh, 
and the Lord Admiral were there, while Hens- 
lowe, the owner of the Eose Theatre on Bankside, 
with his son-in-law, Edward Alleyn, the noted 
actor, shone in all their borrowed glory. 

Spenser, Drayton, Marlowe, Kyd, IN'ash, Chettle^ 
Peele, Greene, and a young author, Ben Jonson_, 
were a few of the literary luminaries present. 

A contingent of London lords, patrons of au- 
thors and actors graced the scene. Essex, South- 
hampton, Pembroke, Cecil, Mortimer, Burleigh 
and Lord Bacon occupied prominent places at the 
angle table of the club, where Ealeigh sat as 
master of ceremonies. 

Promptly at eleven o'clock, the great courtier, 
sailor and discoverer arose from his elevated 
chair and proposed a toast to the Virgin and Fairy 
Queen ! 

All stood to their tankards and drank unani- 
mously to the Virgin Queen. 

I thought I observed a flash of secret smiles 
pictured on the lips of Essex, Spenser, Bacon and 
Ealeigh when Elizabeth was toasted as the Virgin 
Queen; and William whispered in my ear: 

67 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

*'Her virtues graced with eternal gifts. 
Do treed love's settled passions in my Jieo/rt!'' 

After tremendous cheers were given for the 
Qneen^ Sir Walter, in his blandest mood said: 
"We are glorified by having with ns to-night the 
greatest poet in the realm, and I trust Sir Ed- 
mund Spenser will be gracious enough to give 
us a few lines from the '^Faerie Queen/ " 
Sir Edmund arose in his place and said : 
"In Una, the Fairy Queen, I beheld the purity 
and innocence of Elizabeth, and in the lion of 
passion, hungry from the forest, I saw her con- 
quer even in her naked habiliments. 

''One day, nigh weary of the irTcsome way 
From her unhasty beast she did alight; 
And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay. 
In secret shadow, far from all men's sight. 
From her fair head her fillet she undight. 
And laid her stole aside, her angel's face. 
As the great Eye of Heaven, shone bright 
And made a sunshine in the shady place — 
Did never mortal eye behold such grace! 
It fortuned, out of the thicTcest wood 
A ramping Lion rushed suddenly. 
Hunting full greedy after savage blood; 
Soon as the Royal Virgin he did spy. 
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily, 
To have at once devoured her tender corse; 
But to the prey when as he drew more nigh — 
His bloody rage assuaged with remorse. 
And with the sight amazed, forgot his furious 
forcer' 

69 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Spenser resumed his seat, while a whirl of echo- 
ing applause waved from floor to rafter. 

Then Sir Walter remarked: 

"We are honored to-night by the presence of the 
counsel extraordinary of Queen Elizabeth, the 
orator and philosopher. Sir Francis Bacon, who 
will, I trust, give us a sentiment in honor of Her 
Majesty, the patron of art, literature and liberty !" 

Bacon, handsome, proud, but obsequious, then 
arose and addressed the jolly banqueters as fol- 
lows : 

"Gentlemen: The toast of the evening to her 
gracious Majesty, Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen, 
meets my soul-lit approval, and had I the wings 
of fancy, instead of the plodding pedals of prac- 
tical administration, I should raise her virtuous 
statue to the skies until its pinnacle shone above 
the uplands of omnipotence! 

"Philosophy teaches us that vice and virtue 
are at eternal war, and that whether married or 
single, the happiest state of man or woman is 
personal independence! 

"Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed. 
Or pain his head; 

Those that live single^, take it for a curse. 
Or do things worse; 
Some would have children, those that have them 

mourn. 
Or wish they were gone; 
What is it then, to have or have no wife. 
But single thraldom, or a double strife! 

"My friends: The ocean is the solitary hand- 
maid of eternity. Cold and salt cure alike! 

^9! 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

"Men are like ants, crawling up and down. 

*^'Some carry corn, some carry their young, and 
all go to and fro — at last a little heap of dust V 

The states' attorney took his seat, with frantic 
applause rattling in his ears. 

Although the sentiments of Bacon were variable, 
mixed, foreign and epigrammatic, they received 
great attention; for no matter who may be the 
speaker at a banquet where royalty and power are 
the subjects at issue, there will be great and tre- 
mendous cheering by little sycophants who expect 
reward, and of course, by those patriots who have 
already received favors from the administration 
pie counter. 

Sir Walter at last arose and said "that although 
the hour was late, or, more properly speaking, 
early, he earnestly desired the noble gentlemen 
present to hear one whose fame, in the world of 
dramatic letters, like the morning sun, had al- 
ready flashed upon the horizon and rapidly ap- 
proached the high noon of earthly immortality — . 
William Shakspere, of Stratford-on-Avon !" 

Then could be heard roof -lifting cheers by all 
present, who had often heard the Bard in his lofty 
language and kingly strides at the Blackfriars. 

William, in the flush of self-conscious, imperial, 
splendid manhood exclaimed: 

"Gentlemen : 

Your toast of glory to the Virgin Queen 

CracTcs high heaven with reverberation. 

And through the ambient air, sonorous. 

The echoing muses mingle the 

Harmony of the spheres with celestial repetition! 

70 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Elizabeth, I lift my song to thee. 

In holy adoration 

To echo down the flowing tide of ages! 

Within the chronicle of wasted time 

I see descriptions of the fairest wights. 

And beauty making beautiful old rhyme 

In praise of ladies dead and gallant knights. 

Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best 

Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, 

I know their antique pen would have expressed 

Even such a beauty as you master noiv. 

So all their praises are but prophecies 

Of this our time, all you prefiguring ; 

And, for they looked, but with divining eyes. 

They had not skill enough your worth to sing; 

For me, which now behold these present days 

Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues tos praise. 

Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul 
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come. 
Can yet the lease of my true love control. 
Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. 
The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured. 
And the sad augurs mark their own presage; 
Incertainties now crown themselves assured. 
And peace proclaims olives of endless age. 
Now with the drops of the most balmy time. 
My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes. 
Since spite of him Til live in the poor rhyme 
While he sweeps over dull and speechless tribes. 
And thou, in this shalt find thy monument. 
When tyrant crests and tombs of brass are spent! 



Shakspere: Personal' Recollections 

Eapturous and universal praise and applause 
greeted William and Ms immortal sonnets; and if 
any critical reader or author will take pains to 
delve into and scati the poetry and philosophy of 
Spenser and Bacon with that of Shakspere, they 
will quickly and honestly come to the conclusion 
that the former writers are merely rushlights to the 
flashing electric lights of the Divine Bard! 

To paraphrase the encomium of Shakspere to 
Cleopatra would fit the greatness of himself: 

*'Age cannot wither Mm, nor custom stale 
His infinite variety; other men cloy 
The appetites they feed; hut he maizes hungry 
Where most he satisfies T 



7a 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER IX. 

BOHEMIAN HOUKS. WESTMINSTER ABBEY. '^LOVE's 

labor's lost.'' 

*'I have ventured 
Like little wanton toys that swim on bladders 
This many summers in a sea of glory/' 

The literary bohemians of London three hundred 
years ago were an impecunious and jealous lot of 
human pismires, who built their dens, carried their 
loads, and were filled with vaulting ambition just 
the same as we see them to-day. 

The hack-writer for publishers, the actor for the- 
atrical managers and the author of growing re- 
nown belonged to clubs and tavern coteries, push- 
ing their way up the rocky heights of fame, and 
struggling, as now, for bread, clothes and shelter, 
many of the Bacchanalian creatures dying from 
hunger at the foothills of their ambition; and in- 
stead of winning a niche in the columned aisles 
of Westminster Abbey, dropped dead in some back 
alley or gloomy garret, to be carted away by the 
Beadle to the voracious Potter's field. 

They often courted Dame Suicide, who never 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

fails to relieve the wicked, wretched, insane or 
desperate from their intolerable sitnation. 

''Art thou so hare and full of wretchedness. 
And fear'st to die ? Famine is in thy cheelcs. 
Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes. 
Content and beggary hang upon thy bach; 
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law!" 

How often at the Miter or Falcon taverns have 
I seen these little great literary men swell like a 
toad or puff like a pigeon at the flattery bestowed 
on them by fawning bohemians, meaner than them- 
selves, who sought a midnight snack and a tankard 
of foaming ale. 

Of all the despicable and miserable creatures 
I have ever known it is the poor starving devil, 
with latent genius, who attempts to pay court to 
a cad, snob, or drunken lord around the refuse 
of literary or sporting clubs in midnight hours. 

William was always very kind to these thread- 
bare wanderers, and although they often gave him 
pen prods behind his back, he never betrayed any 
recognition of their envious stings, but like the 
lion in his jungle, brushed these busy bees away by 
the underbrush of his philosophy. 

He mildly rebuked their pretense, but relieved 
their immediate wants, impressing upon them the 
study of Nature and not the blandishments of art, 
having the appearance of Oriental porcelain or 
Phoenician glass, when it was really crude crockery 
painted to deceive the sight and auctioned off to 
the unwary purchaser as genuine material. 

How many authors, artists and actors of to-day 

74 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

follow in the path of their London ancestors who 
blow, and brag, and strut in midnight clubs and 
taverns to the pity and disgust of their table 
tooters. 

Speaking one evening at the Eed Lion, in the 
rooms of Florio, I asked William how it was that 
his plays were so successful, while those of other 
authors had almost been banished from the dra- 
matic boards. He at once replied : 

/ draw my plots from Nature's law 

To sound the depths of human life,. 
And through her realm I find no flaw 

In all her seeming, varied strife; 
The good and had are near allied; 

With sweet and sour forever hlent. 
While vice and virtue side by side 

Exist in every continent. 
The poison vine that climbs the tree. 

Is just as great in Nature's plan 
As every mount and every sea 

Displayed below for little man. 
And every ant and busy bee 

Shall teach us how to build and toil 
If we would mingle with the free. 

Who plough the seas or till the soil. 

I shall never forget the visit Shakspere and my- 
self paid to the cloistered, columned, pinnacled 
proportions of Westminster Abbey. 

It was three o'clock in the afternoon of the 
24th of December, 1592. 

The living London world was rushing in great 
multitudes by alley, lane, street and park prepar- 
ing for the celebration of Christmas Eve. 

75 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Vanity Fair was decked off with palm, spruce, 
pine, myrtle, ivy and holly to garnish home, hall 
and shop in honor of Jesns, who had been crucified 
nearly sixteen hundred years before for telling the 
truth and tearing down the vested arrogance of 
religious tyranny. 

A bright winter sun was gilding the tall towers 
of the Abbey with golden light, and the mullioned 
windows were blazing over the surrounding build- 
ings like flashes of fire. 

We entered the court of Westminster through 
the old school by way of a long, low passage, dimly 
lighted corridors, with glinting figures of old teach- 
ers in black gowns, moving like specters from the 
neighboring tombs. 

As we passed along by cloistered walls and mural 
monuments to vanished glory, we were soon within 
the interior of the grand old Abbey. 

Clustered columns of gigantic dimensions, with 
lofty arches springing from wall to nave met the 
eye of the beholder, and stunned by the solemn 
surroundings, vain man wonders at his own handi- 
work, trembling with doubt amid the monumental 
glory of Old Albion. 

The Abbey clock struck the hour of five as Wil- 
liam and myself stood in deep contemplation at 
Poets' corner. 

The reverberating tones of time echoed from 
nave to floor, through cloistered walls and 
columned aisles, noting the passing hour and ages, 
like billows of sound rolling over the graves of 
vanished splendor. 

Here crumble the dust and eflSgies of courtiers, 
warriors, statesmen, lords, dukes, kings^ queens 

76 



ShaKspere: Personal Recollections 

and authors ; and yet, there is no spot in the Abbey 
that holds such an abiding interest for mankind 
as the modest corner where lie the dust of noted 
poets and philosophers. 

The great and the heroic of the world may be 
bravely admired in lofty contemplation of nation- 
ality, but a feeling of fondness creeps over the 
traveler or reader when he bows at the grave of 
buried genius, while tears of remembrance even 
wash away the sensuous Bacchanalian escapades of 
impulsive, poetic revelers. 

The author, touched by the insanity of genius, 
must ever live in the mind of the reader, and while 
posterity shall forget even warriors, kings and 
queens, it never fails to preserve in marble, granite, 
bronze and song the name and fame of great poets. 

David, Solomon, Job, Homer, Horace, Ovid, 
'Angelo, Dante and Plutarch are deeply imbedded 
in the memory of mankind, and although great 
kingdoms, empires and dynasties, have passed 
away to the rubbish heap of oblivion, the poet, 
musician, painter, and sculptor still remain to 
thrill and beautify life, and teach hope of im- 
mortality beyond the grave. 

After gazing on the statues of abbots, Knights 
Templar, Knights of the Bath, bishops, statesmen, 
kings and queens, many mutilated by time and 
profane hands, William stood by the coffin of Ed- 
ward the Confessor and mournfully soliloquized : 

Westminster! lofty heir of Pagan Temple; 
Imperial in stone; a thousand years 
Crowns the record of thy inheritance. 
Gilding the glory of thy ancient fame, 

.77 



Shakspere: Personal Recc^Uections 

With imperishable deeds — 

Liberty of thought and action, shall. 

Forever cluster about thy classic form; 

While new men with new creeds, and reason. 

Shall overturn the religions of to-day. 

As thou hast invaded and destroyed 

The Pagan, Roman rules of antiquity. 

These marble hands and faces appealing 

For remembrance, to animated dust 

Appeal in vain, for we, whose footfalls 

Only sound in marble ears, cold and listless. 

Shall ourselves follow where they led, dying 

Not Tcnowing the mysterious secrets of the grave. 

Here the victor and vanquished, side by side. 

Sleep in dreamless rest. Kings and Queens in life. 

Battling for power, all conquered by tyrant Death, 

Whose universal edict, irrevocable. 

Levels Prince and Peasant, in impalpable dust. 

Crowns to-day, coffins to-morrow, with monuments 

Mossed over, letter-crached, undecipherable 

As the mummied remains of Egyptian Kings. 

Vain, vain, are all the monuments of man. 

The greatest only live a little span; 

We strut and shine our passing day, and then — 

'Depart from all the haunts of living men. 

With only Hope to light us on the way 

Where billions passed beneath the silent clay; 

And, none have yet returned to tell us where 

Well bivouac beyond this world of care; 

And these dumb mouths, with ghostly spirits near 

Will not express a word into mine ear. 

Or tell me vjhen I leave this sinning sod 

If I shall be transfigured with my Qod! 



n 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

In September, 1592, the second play of Shak- 
spere, ^^Love's Labor's Lost," was given at the 
Blackfriars, to a fine audience. 

He took the characters of the play from a French 
novel, based on an Italian plot, and wove around 
the story a lot of glittering talk to please the lords 
and ladies who listened to the silly gabble of their 
prototypes. 

Ferdinand, King of N'avarre, and his attendant 
lords are a set of silly beaux who propose to retire 
from the world and leave women alone for the 
space of three years. 

The Princess of France and her ladies in wait- 
ing, with the assistance of a gay lord named Boyet, 
made an incursion into the Kingdom of Navarre 
and break into the solitude of the students. 

Nathaniel, a parson, and Holofernes, a pedant 
schoolmaster, are introduced into the play by 
William to illustrate the asinine pretensions of 
ministers and pedagogues, who are constantly 
introducing Latin or French words in their daily 
conversation, for the purpose of impressing com- 
mon people with their great learning, when, in 
fact, they only show ridiculous pretense and expose 
themselves to the contempt of mankind. 

There are very few noted philosophic sentiments 
in the play, and the attempt at wit, of the clown, 
the constable and Holofernes, the schoolmaster, 
fall very flat on the ear of an audience, while the 
rhymes put in the mouth of the various characters 
are unworthy of a boy fourteen years of age. 

I remonstrated with William about injecting 
his alleged poetry into the love letters sent by the 
lords and ladies^ but he replied that young love 

.79, 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

was such a fool that any kind of rhyme would suit 
passionate parties who were playing "Jacks and 
straws" with each other. 

Ferdinand, the King, opens up the play with a 
grand dash of thought: 

^'Let fame that all hunt after in their lives. 
Live registered upon our brazen torribs. 
And then grace us in the disgrace of death. 
When, spite of cormorant devouring time. 
The endeavor of this present breach may buy 
That honor, which shall bait his scythe's Tceen 

edge 
To mahe us heirs of all eternity/' 

Lord Biron, who imagines himself in love with 
the beautiful Eosaline, soliloquizes in this fashion : 

"What? HI love! I sue! I seek a wife! 
A woman that is liTce a German clocTc, 
Still a repairing; ever out of frame. 
And never going aright, being a watch. 
But being watched that it may still go right! 
Is not Love a Hercules 
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? 
Subtle as a sphinx; as sweet and musical 
As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair 
And when Love speaTcs, the voice of (M the gods 
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony!" 

Holofernes, the Latin pedagogue, criticising Ar- 
mado, exclaims: 

Novi hominem tanquam te. His humor is lofty, 
his discourse peremptory. He draweth out the 

8Q 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his 
argument. 

And then Holofernes winds np the play with 
the Owl and Cuckoo song, a rambling verse. Win- 
ter speaking: 

When icicles hang hy the wallj, 
And Diclc^ the shepherd, blows his wail. 
And Tom hears logs into the hall. 
And milh comes frozen home in pail. 
When hlood is nipped and ways he foul. 
When nightly sings the staring owl 

To-who; 
Tu'whit, to-who, a merry note 
While greasy Joan doth scum the pot. 



81 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTEE X. 

QUEEN" ELIZABETH. WAR. SHAKSPEEE IN" lEE- 

LAITD. 

**Now all the youth of England are on fire 
And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies; 
Now thrive the armorers^ and honors thought 
Hangs solely in the breast of every man. 

Cry ^ Havoc/ and let slip the dogs of warT 

The reign of Queen Elizabeth was a most glori- 
ous one for the material and mental progress of 
England, but most disastrous for Philip of Spain, 
Louis and Henry of France, Mary of Scotland, 
O'Neill, O'Brien, Desmond and Tyrone of Ireland. 

The Eeformation of Martin Luther, a Catholic 
priest, against the faith and financial exactions 
of the Pope of Rome, cracked from the CathoKc 
sky like a clap of thunder from the noonday sun, 
and reverberated over the globe with startling de- 
tonation. 

The cry of personal liberty and personal respon- 
sibility to God, went out from the German cloister 
like a roaring storm and echoed in thunder tones 
among the columned aisles of the Vatican. 

Entrenched audacity and mental tyranny was 

8^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

broken from its ancient pedestal, as if an earth- 
quake had shivered the Eoman dominions, leaving 
sacerdotal precedents and papal bulls in the back- 
alley of bigotry and bloated ignorance. 

People began to think and wonder how they 
had been bamboozled for centuries by a set of edu- 
cated harlequins, who, in all lands and climes ex- 
hibited their antics and nostrums for the delecta- 
tion and digestion of infatuated fools! Millions 
yet living ! 

Queen Elizabeth's elevation to the throne of 
England was a bid for the banished and perse- 
cuted Protestants to return from foreign lands and 
again pursue their puritanical philosophy. 

Pope Paul demanded of Elizabeth that all the 
church lands, monasteries and cathedrals confis- 
cated by her father, Henry the Eighth, be restored 
to the Eoman hierarchy, and that she make con- 
fession and submission to the divine authority of 
the Catholic Church. 

Although religion and civil law was in a very 
chaotic state. Queen Bess was not at all disturbed 
by the threats of the Vatican or the Armada of 
Spain. With old Lord Cecil as her prime counsel, 
she never hesitated to believe in her own destiny, 
and, like her opponents, the Jesuits, the end always 
justified the means. When it was necessary to rob 
or kill anybody, the Queen did so without any com- 
punction of conscience. 

She did not care for religion one way or the 
other, and flattered the Catholic and Protestant 
lords alike, manipulating them for her psrsonal 
and official advantage. Victory at any price. Busi- 
ness Bessy! 

.83 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

She professed great love for her sister, Mary 
Queen of Scots, but to foil the French Catholics 
and satisfy the Scotch and English Protestants, 
Lizzie cut off the head of her beautiful sister. She 
professed great sorrow after Mary's head was de- 
tached. 

Essex and Ealeigh, and many other royal cour- 
tiers were sent to the Tower and the block by this 
ired-headed, snaggle-tooth she devil, who only 
thought of her own physical pleasures and official 
vanities, sacrificing everything to her tyrannical 
ambition. She died in an insane, frantic fit. 

Yet, with all her devilish conduct, she pushed 
the material interest of Englishmen ahead for G.Ye 
hundred years, and by her patronage of sailors, 
warriors, poets and philosophers, gave British let- 
ters a boom that is felt to the present day, and 
through Shakspere's lofty lines, shall continue 
down the ages to tell mankind that nothing on 
earth is lasting but honest work and eternal truth. 

Contention and war is the natural condition of 
mankind; for all animated nature, from birth to 
death, struggles for food and shelter. 

The birds of the air, animals of the land and 
fishes of the sea, fight and devour each other for 
food, while man, the great robber and murderer 
of all, delights in destruction, and from his first 
appearance on earth to the present day, has been 
earnestly engaged in emigrating from land to land, 
seeking whom he may rob and kill for personal 
wealth and power ! Doing it to-day more than ever. 

Civilization is only refined barbarism ; and this 
very hour the nations of the world are inventing 
and manufacturing powder, guns and terrible bat- 
Si 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

tie ships for the purpose of robbing and killing 
each other in the next war, nearly at hand. Japan 
and Eussia will tear each other to pieces. 

Peace is only a slight resting spell for the na- 
tions to trade with each other and make secret 
preparations to finally kill and secure increased 
dominion. 

The minions of monarchy and lovers of liberty 
have invariably despised each other, and waited 
only favorable opportunity to rob and murder. 
Even now, they crouch like lions at bay, and fight 
to the death. 

Liberty is forging ahead with ten league boots 
^and monarchy is silently, but surely being rele- 
gated to the tomb of defeat. 

Of course, right is right in the abstract, but 
might is the winning card in the lottery of Fate, 
and that nation having the most brave men, money 
and guns will come out victorious ! 

Strong nations have become stronger by rob- 
bing and killing weaker nations, and the British 
Government for a thousand years — ^particularly 
from the bloody reigns of Elizabeth and Oliver 
Cromwell — can boast that it has never failed to 
rob and kill the weak, while truckling and fawning 
at the feet of Eussia and the Eepublic of the United 
States, which will soon extend from Bering Sea 
and Baffin's Bay to the Isthmus of Panama — ab- 
sorbing Canada, Cuba, Mexico and Central Amer- 
ica within its imperial jurisdiction. We intend to, 
and shall rule the world ! 

Then, this vast Eepublic, looking over the globe 
•from the dome of our national Capitol, at Wash- 
ington^ can invite all lands to banquet at the table 

85 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

of the Goddess of Liberty, and in merc}^ to the 
blind tyranny of monarchy we may lay a wreath 
of myrtle on the graves of lords, earls, dukes, 
kings, queens and emperors, to be only remem- 
bered as the nightmare of tyranny, extirpated from 
the earth forever. God grant their speedy official 
destruction ! 

The gentle reader (of course) will excuse this 
enthusiastic digression from the story of Queen 
Bess and my soul friend William Shakspere. 

If they were present at this moment, they would 
not dare deny the truth of this memory narrative. 

In the summer of 1595, the periodical plague 
of London was thinning out the inhabitants of that 
dirty city. In the lower part of the city skirting 
the Thames, the sewerage was very bad and but the 
poorest sanitary rules existed. After a hard rain, 
the lanes, alleys and streets ran with a stream of 
putrefaction, as the offal from many tenement 
houses was thrown in the public highway, where 
the rays from the hot sun created malarial fever 
or the black plague. 

At such times the theatres and churches were 
closed, and those who could get out of London, by 
land or water, fled to the inland shires of England, 
the mountains of Scotland or to the heather hills of 
Ireland. 

Edmund Spenser, the poet and Secretary of Lord 
Gray for Ireland, invited William and myself to 
visit his Irish estate near the city of Cork. 

One bright morning in May, we boarded the 
good ship Elizabeth, near the Tower, passed out of 
Gravesend, then into the channel and steered our 
way to Bantry Bay, until we landed in the cove 

86 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

of Cork, as the church bells were ringing devotees 
to early mass. 

The green fields and hills of Ireland were bloom- 
ing in rustic beauty, the thrush sang from every 
hawthorn bush, the blackbird was busy in the fields 
filching grain from the ploughman, the lark, in 
his skyward flight poured a stream of melody on 
the air, and all Nature seemed happy, but man. 

He it is who makes the blooming productive 
earth miserable, with his voracious greed for gold 
and power. 

Elizabeth was then waging war with the various 
Irish chieftains, importing cunning Scotchmen 
and brutal Englishmen as soldiers and traders to 
colonize the lands and destroy the homes of what 
she was pleased to call "Barbarous, rebellious, 
wild Irish." 

Whenever any strong power invades a weaker 
one for the purpose of robbery and official murder 
(war), the tyrant labels his victim — a "Eebel!" 

That is, the original owner of the land destined 
to be robbed is regarded as bigoted, barbarous and 
rebellious, unless he submits to be robbed, banished 
and murdered for the edification and glory of free- 
booters, thieves, tyrants, assassins and foreign man 
hunters. 

Leinster, Munster, Ulster and Connaught, the 
four provinces of Ireland, had been marked out for 
settlement by Henry the Eighth and Queen Eliza- 
beth, and hordes of English "carpetbaggers" and 
soldiers were turned loose on the island to rob, 
burn and destroy the natives. 

As soon as counties and provinces were con- 
auered. the military and lordly pets of the various 

87 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

monarchs were given large grants of the lands 
stolen from the people. 

0':Nreil, O'Brien, Desmond, O'Donnell, O'Con- 
nor, Burke, Clanriekard and Tyrone disputed 
every inch of ground with Pellam, Mountjoy, Gray, 
Essex, Ealeigh and Cromwell; and, although the 
original commanders and owners of the soil have 
been virtually banished or killed, their posterity 
has the proud satisfaction of knowing that more 
than a million of Englishmen and Scotchmen have 
been killed by the *'Wild Irish," and the battle for 
liberty shall still go on till the Saxon robber re- 
linquishes his blood sucking tentacles on the Em- 
erald Isle. 

Poet Spenser and Sir Walter Ealeigh were re- 
warded by Queen Elizabeth with thousands of 
acres, confiscated from the great estate of the Earl 
of Desmond, who lived at the castle of Kilcolman, 
near the town of Doneraile. 

Spenser paid for his stolen land by writing a 
dissertation on the way to conquer and kill off the 
Irish race, regarding them no more than the wild 
beasts of the forest. He also flattered Queen Bess 
by composing a lot of flattering verse, called the 
"Faerie Queen," and made her believe she was the 
beautiful, sweet, mild, chaste, angelic iidividual 
that had thrilled his imagination in the royal 
realms of dreamland. 

What infernal lies political courtiers, religious 
ministers and even poets have told to flatter the 
vanity of governors, presidents, kings, queens, popes 
and emperors! 

Yet in all the grand sentiments Shakspere 
evolved out of his volcanic brain, he never bent the 

88 



Shakspere : Personal Recollections 

knee to absolute vice, but pictured the horrors of 
royalty in its most devilish attitudes. His pen 
was never purchased against truth. 

We remained at Kilcolman Castle with Spenser 
for about ten days riding and sporting, and then 
with an escort of soldiers, were piloted through 
the "EebeF^ counties on to Dublin, where the head 
of O'lSTeil graced one of the "Ked" walls of that 
unlucky city. 

On our route from Cork to Dublin we beheld 
misery and ruin in every form, burned cabins, 
churches, monasteries and bridges, and starving 
women and children on the roadside, crouching 
Tinder bushes, straw stacks and leaking sheds, with 
smouldering turf fires crackling on the ashes of 
despair ! 

We took shipping the next morning for Liver- 
pool, as William was very anxious to get away from 
the land of funeral wails, where the cry of the 
"wake" over some dead peasant or defiant "Eebel" 
echoed on the air continually. 

Where sorrow in her weeping form. 
Shed tears in sunshine, and in storm. 
While o'er the land, a reign of hlood 
Was running Wke a mountain flood! 

As we pushed away from the sight of the Irish 
hills, Shakspere, leaning against the foremast, in 
pathetic tone exclaimed: 

Farewell, old Erin, land of nameless sorrow, 

Albion crushes thee for opinion's sahe; 

'Twixt the Bulls of Borne and Laws of England 

89. 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

TJiy children are rohhed, hanisTied and murdered^ 
And cast away from native land, Wke leaves 
Bestrewing forest wilds, ilealc and lone. 
Merged in lands of Liberty, thy children 
Shall rise again, a new horn glorious race — 
Triumphant in home, church and State, honored. 
Masters of War, Wit, Eloquence and Poetry. 
Move out and move on, liJce the rising sun 
Whose face so oft is clouded with shadows. 
Yet, shall hurst forth again in noondoA) splendor — 
Irradiating a hleaJc and cruel world! 



90 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTEE XI. 

RURAL ENGLAND. "ROMEO AND JULIET/^ 

"I know a hank where the wild thyme blows; 

Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows; 

Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine. 

With sweet musk roses and the eglantine/' 

• 
^'Stony limits cannot hold love out; 

And what love can do, that dares love attempt." 

We remained in Liverpool three days, and then 
determined to return to London by land, crossing 
through the inland shires, taking in Manchester, 
Sheffield, Derby, Birmingham, Coventry, War- 
wick, and on to Stratford, where clustered the dear- 
est objects of our affection. 

We were ten days walking, riding and resting 
at taverns, in our rural tour of Old Albion. The 
fields were furrowed for the grain, the birds sang 
from every hedge and forest domain, the cattle, 
sheep and swine grazed in lowing, bleating, grunt- 
ing security along winding streams, public fields 
or on the velvet meadows of rich yeoman or lordly 
estates, while the men, women, boys and girls that 
we encountered seemed to be infused with the de- 
lights of May blossoms, forest wild flowers and re- 

91 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

freshing showers, all noting the practical prosperity 
of England. 

How different these rural scenes to those we had 
recently encountered in poor down-trodden Ire- 
land, the Niobe of nations, besprinkled with the 
tears of centuries for the loss of her crushed and 
exiled children. 

Yet, the world is moving upward 

To the heights where Freedom reigns; 
Where the sunshine of redemption 

Shall give joy for all our pains. 
When the cruel hands of tyrants 

Shall he banished from the land 
With our God the only Master 

Of Dame Nature true and grand! 

We arrived in sight of Stratford as the sun set 
over the hills of Arden, and as the pigeons and 
rooks sought their nests for the night, a golden 
glow flashed over the evening landscape. 

The last rays of Sol shone in dazzling splendor 
upon the pinnacle of old Trinity Church as we 
gazed with ravished eyes on the winding, glisten- 
ing Avon, meandering through emerald meadows 
and whispering wild flowers to the silvery Severn. 

The old tavern was still there, but the old host 
slept in God's acre near by, while the lads we knew 
ten years before, had, like ourselves, gone out into 
the world for fame and fortune. 

William sought out his father and mother, 
and then Anne Hathaway and the children, who 
still resided at the old Hathaway cottage at Shot- 
tery. I remained at the tavern for contemplation. 

9^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Time and age mellow the most violent spirits; 
and the temper of Anne had become modified by 
family troubles, inducing an inward survey of 
self, which brings a reasonable person to the real- 
ization of the fact that he or she is not the only 
stubborn oak in the forest of humanity. 

A practical stubborn wife and a lofty poet 
never can assimilate. 

Shakspere had no equals or superiors. Shak- 
pere was simply SHAKSPERE. 



At home he found a scolding wife. 
Abroad he felt the joys of life. 
While all his glory and renown 
Were reaped at last in London town. 
He looTced for truth in crowds of men. 
In field, in street, in tavern. 
And mingled with the moving throng 
To hear their story and their song. 
He pictured life in colors true. 
As brilliant as the rainbow hue. 
And all his characters display 
The pride and passion of to-day. 
He cared not for the crowds of men — 
As fierce as beasts within a den. 
And loohed alone to Nature's God 
Displayed in heaven, in sea and sod. 
And held the scales of justice high' 
Uplifted to the sunlit sTcy, 
Weighing the passions of manlcind 
With lofty and imperial mind. 
The Puritan and Pope to him 
Were overflowing to the brim 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

With higotry and cruel spleen 

That desolated every scene. 

The midget minds of men in power 

He satirized from hour to hour. 

And on the stage portrayed the greed 

Of those who live hy crime and creed. 

He tore the masTcs from royal hrows 

And showed their guilt and hrohen vows. 

Exposing to the laughing throng 

The horrid face of vice and wrong. 

In every land and every clime. 

He honored truth and punctured crime. 

And down the years his god-like rhyme 

Shall he synonymous with Time! 

We remained among relatives and friends in 
Warwickshire until the middle of September, when 
we heard that the London plague had abated and 
the theatrical profession were bnsy preparing for a 
winter campaign of dramatic glory. Shakspere 
had several plays partly or nearly finished;, and, as 
Burbage and Henslowe desired our immediate 
services, we took our departure from Stratford, 
with the friendship of the town echoing in our 
ears. 

The flowers and growing fields, the leafy forests 
and circling and singing birds seemed to say good- 
bye, good luck and God bless you ! 

We felt happy and hopeful ourselves, and con- 
sequently Dame Nature echoed the feeling of our 
souls. AH was joy, song, feasting and laughter. 

William, on our way to Oxford, in one of his 
original flights taken from an ode of Horace, im- 
pulsively exclaimed: 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Laugh and the world laughs with you; 

Weep and you weep alone. 
This grand old earth must harrow its mirth. 

It has troubles enough of its own. 
Sing and the hills will answer. 

Sigh, it is lost on the air. 
The echoes hound to a joyful sound. 

But shrinh from voicing care. 

Be glad and your friends are many; 

Be sad and you lose them all; 
There are none to decline your nectared wine. 

But alone we must drinh life's gall. 
There's room in the halls of pleasure. 

For a long and lordly train. 
But one hy one we must all file on; 

Through the narrow aisles of pain. 

Feast, and your halls are crowded. 

Fast, and the world goes hy. 
Succeed and give, 'twill help you live; 

But no one can help you die! 
Rejoice, and men will seeTc you. 

Grieve, and they turn and go. 
They want full measure of all your pleasure 

But they do not want your woe! 

These lines impressed me very much, at the time 
and from that day to this I have never ceased to 
act on the philosophy of the poem. 

It has been part of my nature, and during my 
wanderings for the past three hundred and twenty 
years I have never failed to carry in my train of 
ifchought and action— sunshine, beauty, song, love 

^5 



Shaksperc: Personal Recollections 

and laughter — advance agents to secure welcome 
in all hearts and homes throughout the world. 

We were beautifully entertained by Mrs. Daisy 
Davenant at the Crown Tavern in Oxford, and 
many of the college "boys," who heard of our ar- 
rival in the city, hurried to pay their classic 
friendship to the "Divine" William. 

We arrived in London on the 20th of September, 
and found that our old maid landlady had died of 
the plague, but had kindly sent all our literary 
and wardrobe effects to Florio, who was still alive 
and well at the Eed Lion. 

In a couple of days William was up to his head 
and ears in theatrical composition and stage struc- 
ture. 

A few years before the Bard had '^dashed off" a 
love tragedy entitled "Eomeo and Juliet," taken 
from an Italian novel of the thirteenth century, 
and a translation of the old family feud in poetry, 
by Walter Brooke, who had but recently delighted 
London with the story. 

Shakspere never hesitated to take crude ore and 
rough ashler from any quarry of thought; and 
out of the dull, leaden material of others, produced 
characters in living form to walk the stage of life 
forever, teaching the lesson of virtue triumphant 
over vice. 

The exemplification of true love, as pictured 
in the pure affection of Juliet and the intense, 
heroic devotion of Eomeo, have never been equaled 
or surpassed by any other dramatic characters. 

The lordly and wealthy gentry of Italy have 
been noted for their family feuds for the past 
three thousand years, and the party followers of 

96 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

these blood-stained rivals have desolated many 
happy homes in Eome^ Florence, Milan, Naples, 
Venice and Verona. 

Shakspere showed the finished play of "Romeo 
and Juliet'^ to Burbage, and the old manager fairly 
jumped wth Joy and astonishment at the eloquence 
of the love and ruin drama. 

The families of Capulet and Montague of Ve- 
rona, stuffed with foolish pride about the matri- 
monial choice of their daughters and sons, can be 
found in every city in the world where a tyrant 
father or purse-proud mother insist on selecting 
life partners for their children. 

The story of Eomeo and Juliet shows the utter 
failure of such parental folly. 

The play was largely advertised among the lights 
of London and announced to come off in all its 
glory at the Blackfriars on the last Saturday of 
December, 1595. 

Queen Elizabeth, in a special box, was there 
incog, with a royal train of lords and ladies; and 
such another audience for dress and stunning 
show was never seen in London. 

Burleigh, Bacon, Essex, Southampton, Derby, 
Ealeigh, Spenser, Warwick, Gray, Montague, 
Lancaster, Mount joy, Blake, and all the great sol- 
diers and sailors of the realm then in London 
were boxed for a sight of the greatest love tragedy 
ever enacted on the dramatic stage. All the dra- 
matic authors were present. 

William himself took the part of Eomeo, for he 
was a perfect exemplification of the hero of the 
play. Jo Taylor took the part of Juliet, and I can 
assure you that his makeup, in the form and dress 

1)7 . 



Shakspere : Personal Recollections 

of the fourteen-year-old Italian beauty, was a great 
success. 

Dick Burbage took the part of Friar Laurence, 
Condell played Mercutio, Arnim the part of Paris, 
Field played old Capnlet, and Florio played Mon- 
tague, Hemmings played Benvolio, and John Un- 
derwood played the part of Tybalt, and Escalus, 
the Prince, was played by Phillips. 

The curtain went up on a street scene in Ve- 
rona, where the partisans of the houses of Capulet 
and Montague quarreled, while Paris, Mercutio, 
Komeo and Tybalt worked up their hot blood and 
came to blows. 

Eomeo and his friends, in mask, attended a ball 
at the home of Juliet, in a clandestine fashion, 
and on first sight of this immaculate beauty Eomeo 
exclaims : 

"O, she doth teach the torches to hum 'bright! 
Her beauty hangs upon the cheeTc of night 
Lihe a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear; 
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! 
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows. 
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 
The dancing done, I'll watch her place of stand. 
And, touching hers, maJce happy my rude hand. 
Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight. 
For I ne'er saw true beauty till to-night!" 

The poetic apostrophe of Eomeo to his new dis- 
covered beauty elicited universal applause, led by 
the "Virgin Queen," who imagined, no doubt, that 
his tribute to beauty was intended for herself. 

98 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

She never lost an opportunity to appropriate any- 
thing that came her way. An epigram of strenuous 
audacity. A winner ! 

In the second act Eomeo climbs the wall, hem- 
ming in his beautiful Juliet, and in defiance of the 
family fued, locks and bars of old man Capulet, and 
seeks a clandestine interview with his true love, 
although at the risk of his life. 

It was the evening of the twenty-first birthday 
of Eomeo, and with love as his guide and subject, 
he felt strong enough to attack a warring world. 

Beneath the window of the fair Juliet, Borneo 
soliloquizes : 

"He jests at scars, that never felt a wound—' 
(Juliet appears at an upper window.) 

But, soft! what light through yonder window 
ireahs! 

It is the East, and Juliet is the sun! 

Arise, fair sun, and Mil the envious moon. 

Who is already siclc and pale with grief. 

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she; 

Be not her maid since she is envious; 

Her vestal livery is hut siclc and green. 

And none hut fools do wear it; cast it off — 

It is my lady; 0, it is my love; 

0, that she knew she were! — 

8he spealcs, yet she says nothing: What of that: 

Her eye discourses, I will answer it. 

I am too hold. His not to me she spealcs; 

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven. 

Having some hu^iness, do entreat her eyes 

To twinkle in their spheres till they return. 

What if her eyes were there, they in her head? 

99 
;L.cfC. 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The brightness of her cheeh would shame those 

stars. 
As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven 
Would through the airy region stream so bright 
That birds would sing, and thinh it were not 

night. 
See how she leans her cheeh upon her hand! 
0, that I were a glove upon that hand. 
That I might touch that cheeh T' 

Juliet speaks, and finally out of her fevered, love- 
lit mind says : 

'^0, Romeo J Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? 
Beny thy father and refuse thy name; 
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love. 
And Til no longer be a Capulet!" 

Eomeo replies: 

""Z tahe thee at thy word; 
Call me but love, and Fll be new baptized. 
Henceforth I never will be Romeo/' 

She says; 

'^How cam'st thou hither? 
The orchard walls are too high and hard to climb; 
And the place death, considering who thou art/' 

Eomeo quickly responds: 

''With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; 
For stony limits cannot hold love out; 

100 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

And what love can do^ that dares love attempt. 
Therefore thy Tcinsmen are no hindrance to me! 
I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far 
As that vast shore washed with the further sea 
I would adventure for such merchandise!'* 

Then Juliet^ with, her fine Italian cunning 
makes the following declaration of her love; and 
considering that she is only fourteen years of age, 
yet in the hands of a house nurse, older and wiser 
girls could not give a better gush of affectionate 
eloquence : 

''Thou Jcnow'st the maslc of night is on my face. 
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheeh. 
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. 
Fain would I divell on form, fain, fain, fain, deny 
What I have spoke; But, farewell compliment! 
Dost thou love me ? I know thou wilt say. Ay; 
And I will take thy word, yet if tliou swear st. 
Thou may'st prove false; at lover s perjuries 
They say Jove laughs. 0, gentle Romeo, 
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully; 
Or, if thou thinVst I am too quickly won, 
ril frown and be perverse, and say thee nay. 
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. 
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; 
And therefore thou may'st think my conduct light; 
But, tru^t me, gentleman. Til prove more true 
Than those that have more cunning to be strange. 
I should have been more shy, I must confess. 
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was aware. 
My true love's passion; therefore, pardon me; 
And not impute this yielding to light love. 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Which the darh night hath so discovered. 
My bounty is as boundless as the sea. 
My love as deep; the more I give to thee. 
The more I have, for both are infinite T 

The lovers part, promising eternal love and 
marriage "to-morrow" at the cell of good Friar 
Laurence, the confessor of the fair Juliet. 

The friar, priest, preacher and bishop have ever 
been great matrimonial matchmakers, and when 
"Love's young dream'^ is foiled or withered by 
parental tyranny, these velvet-handed philosophers 
find a way to tie the hymeneal knot, even in per- 
sonal and legal defiance of cruel, social dictation. 

Friar Laurence, in contemplation of tying love- 
knots soliloquizes in the following lofty lines: 

"^The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, 
ChecTcering the eastern clouds with streaJcs of 

light; 
And Heclced darTcness liTce a drunkard reels 
From forth day's pathway, made by Titan's 

wheels. 
Now ere the sun advance his burning eye. 
The day to cheer, and night's darJc dew to try, 
I must fill up this osier cage of ours 
With baleful needs and precious-juiced Uowers. 
The earth that's Nature's mother, is her tomb; 
What is her burying grave, that is her womb; 
And from her womb children of divers Tcind 
We sucTcing on her natural bosom find. 
Many for many virtues excellent. 
None, but for some, and yet all different; 

10^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

0, micJcle is the powerful grace that lies 
In herhs, plants^ stones and their true qualities; 
For naught so vile that on the earth doth live. 
But to the earth some special good doth give; 
Nor aught so good, but strained from that fair 

use. 
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. 
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied 
And vice sometimes by action dignified. 
Within the infant rind of this small flower, 
^Poison hath residence and medicine power. 
For, this being smelt, with that part cheers eacH 

part. 
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. 
Two such opposed foes encamp them still 
In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will. 
And where the worser is predominant. 
Full soon the canlcer death eats up that plant I'' 

Komeo implores the holy Friar: 

'^Do thou but close our hands with holy words. 
Then love devouring death do what he dare. 
It is enough I muy but call her mineT 

Juliet addressing Eomeo in the Friar^s cell ex- 
claims : 

'^Imagination more rich in matter than in words. 
Brags of his substance, not of ornament; 
They are but beggars that can count their worth; 
But my true love is grown to such excess, 
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth/' 

103 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The good old Friar then says : 

*'Come, come with me and we will make short work; 
For, hy your leaves, you shall not stay alone 
Till holy church incorporate two in oneT 

Mereutio and Tybalt fight, in faction of the 
Capnlet and Montague houses. Mereutio is killed, 
and then Eomeo kills Tybalt and is banished from 
the State by Prince Escalus. 

Juliet awaits Eomeo in her room the night after 
marriage, and with passionate, impatient longing 
exclaims : 

''Give me my Romeo; and when he shell die 
Take him and cut him out in little stars. 
And he will make the face of heaven so bright 
That all the world will he in love with night. 
And pay no worship to the garish sun. 
0, I have bought the mansion of a love. 
But not possessed it; and, though I am sold; 
Not yet enjoyed; so tedious is this day. 
As is the night before some festival 
To an impatient child that hath new robes. 
And may not wear themT 

Although the verdict of banishment was pro- 
nounced against Romeo to go to Mantua instanter, 
he found means through the old nurse and good 
Priar Laurence to visit his new-made bride the 
night before his forced departure; and in spite 
of locks, bars, law, parents and princes, plucked 
the ripe fruit from the tree of virginity. 

Borneo must be gone before the first crowing 

104 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

of the cock and ere the rosy fingers of the dawn 
light up the bridal chamber, else death would be 
his portion. 

Juliet importunes him to stay, and says: 

"Wilt thou he gone? It is not yet near day; 
It was the nightingale, and not the larTc, 
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; 
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree; 
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale." 

Eomeo replies: 

"It was the larTc, the herald of the morn. 
Wo nightingale; loolc, love, what envious streahs 
''Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East; 
Wight's candles are burnt, and jocund day, 
'Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; 
I must be gone and live, or stay and die!" 

Juliet further implores him to stay: 

"Yon light is not daylight, I Icnow it; 
It is some meteor that the sun exhales; 
To be to thee this night a torch bearer. 
And light thee on thy way to Mantua; 
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not he gone" 

Eomeo willingly consents : 

"Let me be taTcen, let me be put to death; 
I am content so thou wilt have it so; 
ril say yon gray is not the morning's eye, 
'Tis hut the pale reiiex of Cynthia's brow! 

105 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Nor that it is not the lark, whose notes do heat 
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads; 
I have more care to stay than will to go; — 
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so — 
How is it, my soul? Let's talk, it is not day!'* 

Juliet alarmed exclaims: 

"It is, it is, hie hence, hegone away; 
It is the larTc that sings so out of tune. 
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps, 
Some say the lark makes sweet division; 
This doth not so, for she divideth us; 
Some say, the lark and lothed toad change eyes; 
0, now I would they had changed voices too; 
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray. 
Hunting thee hence with hunts up to the day. 
0, now hegone; more light and light it grows/' 

Eomeo descends the ladder, saying his last words 
to the beautiful Juliet: 

"And trust me, love, in mine eye so do you. 
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! Adieu!" 

After the banishment of Eomeo, old Capulet 
and his wife insisted that Juliet marry young 
Paris, a kinsman of Prince Escalus, and sorrows 
unnumbered crowded on the new-made secret bride. 

To escape marriage with Paris, Juliet consulted 
Friar Laurence, who gives her a drug to be taken 
the night before the prearranged marriage, that 
will dull all life and the body remain as dead for 
forty-two hours. This scheme of the Friar works 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

out favorably until Juliet is laid away with her 
ancestors in the grand tomb of the Capulets. 

But Eomeo hears of the whole trouble and hur- 
ries back from banishment, dashing his way 
through all impediments until he kills Paris, griev- 
ing at midnight by the grave of Juliet. 

Then, tearing his way into the tomb of Juliet 
throws himself upon the gorgeous bier and ex- 
claims : 

''Oh, my love! my wife! 
Veath that hath suclced the honey of thy hreath. 
Hath had no power yet upon thy heauty; 
Thou art not conquered; heauty' s ensign yet 
Is crimson on thy lips, and in thy cheeks. 
And death's pale flag is not advanced there; 
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy hloody sheet? 
0, what more favor can I do thee. 
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain. 
To sunder his that was thine enemy! 
Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, 
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe 
That unsubstantial death is amorous; 
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
Thee here in dark to be his paramour? 
For fear of that I will still stay with thee; 
And never from this palace of dim night 
Depart again; here, here will I remain 
With worms that are thy chambermaids; 0, here 
Will I set up my everlasting rest; 
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 
From this world-wearied Hesh; eyes, look your 

last! 
Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, 0, you, 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

TJie doors of 'breath, seal with a righteous Tciss 
A dateless bargain to engrossing death! 
Come, bitter conductor, come, unsavory guide! 
Thou desperate pilot, now and at once run on 
The dashing rocTcs thy sea-siclc, weary baric! 
Here's to my love! (Drinks poison.) 0, true 

apothecary ! 
Thy drugs are quiclc; thus with a hiss I die!" 

Friar Laurence and Balthazar with dark lan- 
tern, at this moment approach the tomb to extri- 
cate and save Juliet from the sleeping drug. She 
awakes with the noise in the tomb and views the 
deadly situation. 

The Friar implores her to come, depart at once, 
as the night watch approach. She says: 

'''Go, get thee hence, for I will not away; 
Whafs here 9 a cup close in my true love's hand; 
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end; 
churl! drinlc all; and leave me no friendly 

drop 
To help me after? I will hiss thy lips; 
Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them. 
To m,ahe me die with a restorative. 
Thy lips are warm! 
Yea, noise ? Then Til be brief. happy dagger! 

(Snatches Eomeo's dagger.) 
This is thy sheath, there rust and let me die!" 

( Stabs herself through the heart. ) 

The Prince, Capulet and Montague family soon 
discover all, and Friar Laurence tells the true 
story, punishment follows, and the two contending 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

houses of Verona clasp hands over the ruin they 
have wrought, while the Prince exclaims: 

*'For, never was a story of more woe. 
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo T' 

The drop curtain was rung down and up three 
times^ and the storm of applause that greeted 
Shakspere and Taylor, as the representatives of 
Komeo and Juliet, was never equaled before at 
the Blackfriars. 

The Queen called William and Jo to the royal 
box and by her own firm hand presented a signet 
ring to Eomeo and a lace handkerchief to Juliet! 

''What fates impose, that men must needs abide; 
It hoots not to resist both wind and tide!" 



S09I 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



GHAPTEE XIL 



^^JULIUS C^SAB/^ 



"0 mighty Ccesar! Dost thou lie so low? 
Are all thy conquests^ glories^ tnumphs, spoils 
Shrunk to this little measure f^ 

The assassination of Julius Caesar by Brutus, 
Cassius, Casca and twenty other Eoman Senators, 
in the capital of the Empire in broad daylight, 
was one of the most cowardly and infamous 
crimes recorded in the annals of time. 

The historical and philosophical friends of 
Brutus and Cassius have tried to justify the con- 
spiracy and assassination by imputing the deep de- 
sign of tyranny to Caesar, who was bent on tram- 
pling down the rights of the people and securing 
for himself a kingly crown. 

They say the motive of the conspirators in the 
deep damnation of Caesar's "taking off'' was purely 
patriotism. Many murderers have used the same 
argument. 

The facts do not justify the excuse. For more 
than thirty years Julius Caesar had been a star 
performer on the boards of the Eoman Empire, 
and his family had been illustrious for five hun- 
dred years. Sylla, Marius, Cicero, Cato, Brutus 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

and Pompey had crossed lances with this civil 
and military genius^ and had all become very 
jealous of his increasing fame. 

From boyhood Caesar had been a mixer with 
the common people, and in midnight hours in 
Rome, among tradesmen, merchants, students, 
authors, sailors and soldiers, he became imbued 
with their wants and impulsive nature. He had 
no reason to doubt or oppress the people. 

As commander of invincible troops in Spain, 
Gaul, Germany and Britain, Caesar had secured 
a world-wide reputation, for the eagles of his vic- 
torious legions had swept across the mountains and 
seas to the shore end of Europe and screamed in 
triumph among the palms and sands of Africa 
and Asia! 

Caesar was a poet, orator, historian, warrior and 
statesman, and the imperial families and poli- 
ticians of Rome, who were forced to sit in the 
shade of his triumphs and glory, felt a secret pang 
of jealousy at the stride of this colossal character. 

He was the pride and idol of his soldiers, and 
whether in the forests of Gaul and Germany, the 
swamps of Britain, mountains of Spain, or among 
Ionian isles, his presence was ever worth a thou- 
sand men in battle action. 

His plans were mathematical, his soul sublime 
and his purpose eternal victory ! 

Bravery and Caesar were synonymous terms, 
and the little, mean, pismire ambitions of Roman 
politicians he despised, striding over their corrupt 
schemes for pelf and office like a winter whirlwind. 

Brutus, while professing horror at the contem- 
plated assassination of his friend and natural 

lllj 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

father Caesar, lent a willing ear and sympathetic 
voice to the prime conspirator — Cassius; and al- 
though seemingly dragged into the murderous plot, 
he was in heart the grand villain of the conspiracy, 
believing he might rise to supreme control of the 
Eoman Empire when Julius the Great lay welter- 
ing in his heroic blood. 

Brutus was a dastard, an ingrate, a coward and 
a murderer, and no pretense of patriotism can 
save him from the contempt and condemnation of 
mankind. There is no justification for assassiaa- 
tion! 

The death of Cassar was the first great blow in 
the final destruction of the Eoman Empire, for 
up to this time the people had a voice in electing 
their tribunes, consuls and governors, and were 
consulted as to the burden of taxation, although 
many of their previous rulers had been terrible 
tyrants. 

Brutus and Cassius, and their coconspirators, 
city senators, who dipped their hands in Csesar^s 
sacred blood, were finally driven from all political 
power, their estates confiscated, fleeing like fright- 
ened wolves to foreign fields and forests and perish- 
ing in battle as enemies to their country. 

When brought to bay at Philippi, Brutus and 
Cassius mustered up enough courage to commit 
suicide, which is confession of guilt. 

In the winter of 1597 William was deeply study- 
ing the new translation of Petrarch, and Florio 
was nightly teaching us the lofty philosophy of 
Grecian and Eoman classics. The lives of noted 
ancient poets, orators, warriors, statesmen, gover- 
nors, kings and philosophers, as written or com- 

11^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

piled by the great Plutarch has furnished a mine 
of historic thought for the dramatic artist, and 
Shakspere, above all the men who ever thought, 
wrote or talked on the stage, took most advantage 
of the lines of Plutarch. 

The British people were clamoring for grand 
historical plays, not only for the actions of their 
own kings and queens, but demanded the enact- 
ment of the reigns of great, ancient warriors and 
kings who had given glory to Greece and Eome 
and left imperishable memories for posterity to 
avoid or emulate. 

Burbage, Henslowe and other theatrical man- 
agers, were ever on the lookout for plays to suit 
cash customers, and of course, the Bard of Avon 
had first call, because his plays went on the vari- 
ous stages like a torchlight procession, while those 
of his so-called compeers, struggled through the 
acts and scenes with only the flicker and sputter 
of tallow dips of dramatic thought. 

He knew, and I knew, that his plays would be 
enacted down the circling centuries as long as vice 
and virtue, hate and love, cowardice and bravery, 
fun, folly, wit and wisdom characterized humanity. 

William told Essex and Southampton that he 
had just composed a play with Julius Csesar as 
the central figure, and wished an opportunity to 
test its merits before a private party of authors, 
students and lords at the Holborn House, the grand 
castle of Southampton. 

These noblemen were delighted with the sugges- 
tion, and on the night of the first of March, 1597, 
Burbage, with his whole tribe of theatrical 
"rounders," appeared in the grand banquet room 

113 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

of Southampton, and, under the guidance of Shak- 
spere, rendered for the first time "Julius Caesar." 

Jo Taylor took the part of Caesar, Dick Burbage 
acted Brutus, Condell represented Cassius and 
Shakspere played Marcus Antonius, while the other 
characters were distributed among the "stock" as 
their various talents justified. 

Calphurnia, wife to Caesar, and Portia, wife to 
Brutus, were represented respectively by Hemmings 
and Arnum. 

The play opens with a street scene in Eome 
filled with working, rabble citizens who have turned 
out to give Caesar a great triumph on his return 
from successful war. 

Flavins and Marullus, tribunes, enter and re- 
buke the people for greeting Caesar. 

Flavins twits the turncoat rabble in this style: 

"0 you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, 
Knew ye not Pompey? Many a time and oft 
Have you climbed up to walls and battlements. 
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops. 
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat 
The livelong day, with patient expectation. 
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome; 
And when you saw his chariot but appear. 
Have you not made a universal shout. 
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks. 
To hear the replication of your sounds. 
Made in her concave shores f 
And do you now put on your best attire? 
And do you now cull out a holiday f 
And do you now strew flowers in his way. 
That comes in triumph over Pompey' s blood f^' 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Brutus and Cassius witness the triumphal march 
of Caesar with Jealous, vengeful and dagger hearts, 
and Cassius, the old, desperate soldier, first hints 
at blood conspiracy. 

Brutus asks: 



''What is it that you would impart to me? 
If it be aught toward the general good. 
Set honor in one eye, and death in the other. 
And I will looh on hoth indifferently/' 

Fine talk ! Brutus is not the only political 
murderer that talks of "honor" through the cen- 
turies, a cloak for devils in human shape to work 
a personal purpose and not "the general good." 

Cassius delivers this eloquent indictment against 
Caesar, the grandest of its kind in all history: 

"Well, Honor is the suhject of my story — 
/ cannot tell what you and other men 
Thinh of this life; hut, for my single self 
I had as lief not to be, as live to he 
In awe of such a thing as I, myself. 
I was horn free as Ccesar; so were you. 
We both have fed as well; and we can both 
Endure the winters cold as well as he. 
For once, upon a raw and gusty day. 
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, 
Ccesar said to me, 'Dar'st thou, Cassius, now 
Leap in with me into this angry -flood 
And siuim to yonder point f Upon the word, 
Accoutered as I was, I plunged in 
And bade him follow; so, indeed, he did, 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The torrent roared and we did hujfet it 

With lusty sinews; throwing it aside 

And stemming it with hearts of controversy. 

But ere we could arrive at the point proposed, 

Ccesar cried, 'Help me, Cassius, or I sinhl' 

I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor. 

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulders 

The old Anchisas hear, so, from the waves of 

Tiber 
Did I the tired Ccesar; and this man 
Is now become a god, and Cassiu^ is 
A wretched creature, and must bend his body. 
If Ccesar carelessly but nod on him. 
He had a fever, when he was in Spain, 
And when the fit was on him, I did marh 
How he did shaTce; 'tis true, this god did shalce, 
His coward lips did from their color Hy; 
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world 
Did lose his lustre; I did hear him groan; 
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans 
Marh him, and write his speeches in their boohs; 
Alas! it cried, 'Give me some drinTc, Titiniusf 
As a side girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 
A man of such a feeble temper should 
So get the start of the majestic world 
And bear the palm alone! 
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world 
Lihe a Colossus; and we petty men 
Walh under his huge legs, and peep about 
To find ourselves dishonorable graves. 
Men at some time are masters of their fates. 
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars. 
But in ourselves, that we are underlings. 
Brutus and Ccesar; what should be in that Ccesar? 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Why should that name he sounded more than 

yours ? 
Write them together^ yours is as fair a name; 
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; 
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them 
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Ccesar. 
Now in the name of all the gods at once. 
Upon what meat doth this our Ccesar feed 
That he is grown so great 9^' 

Unanimous applause followed this cunning con- 
spiracy speech, and Jonson, Lodge and Drayton 
gave loud exclamations of approval. 

Caesar, with his staff, returning from the games in 
his honor, sees Cassius and remarks to Antonius : 

*^Let me have men about me that are fat; 
Sleelc-headed men and such as sleep of nights; 
Yonder Cassius has a lean and hungry looJc; 
He thinlcs too much; such men are dangerous; 
And are never at heart's ease 
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves!" 

Casca, one of the senatorial conspirators, tells 
Cassius that Caesar is to be crowned king, and he 
replies thus, contemplating suicide: 

"I Tcnow where I will wear this dagger then; 
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius; 
Therein, ye gods, you mahe the iveak most strong; 
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat; 
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass. 
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron 
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; 
But life being weary of these worldly bars^ 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Never lacks power to dismiss itself; 
That part of tyranny that I do\ hear 
I can shaTce off at pleasure!" 

Brutus, contemplating assassination, says in 
soliloquy : 

*'To speaJc the truth of Ccesar, 
I have not known when his affections swayed 
More than his reason. But His a common proofs 
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder. 
Whereto the climber upward turns his face; 
But when he once attains the upmost round. 
He then unto the ladder turns his back. 
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees 
By which he did ascend!" 

This ingratitude of the great to the people is 
often recompensed by defeat and death. 

After the senatorial conspirators decided that 
Caesar should die, Cassius insisted wisely that Mar- 
cus Antonius should not outlive the great Julius, 
and said: 

^^Let Antony and Caesar fall together!" 

But Brutus would not consent to the death of 
Antony, believing that he was not dangerous to 
their future, yet insisting that "Caesar must bleed 

for ar 

"Let's kill him bodily, but not wrathfully; 
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods. 
Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds; 
And let our hearts as subtle masters do. 
Stir up their servants to an act of rage^ 
And after seem to chide them!" 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

And yet this is the sweet-scented assassin who 
prates of "honor/^ and is sometimes known as "the 
noblest Eoman of them all!" 

Portia, the wife of Brutus, felt a strange alarm 
at his recent conduct, and Calphurnia, the wife of 
Csesar, implored him not to attend the session of 
the senate, reminding him of the soothsayer's warn- 
ing — "Beware the ides of March." 

Yet, Cffisar threw off all fear and suspicion and 
said: 

"What can he avoided^ 
Whose end is purposed hy the mighty gods ? 
Yet Ccesar shall go forth, for these predictions 
Are to the world in general, not to Ccesar! 
Cowards die many times before their deaths; 
The valiant never taste of death hut once!" 

The hour of assassination has arrived, and Caesar, 
seated in the chair of state, says : 

''What is now amiss 
That Ccesar and his senate must redress f 

Senator Metellus, one of the chief conspirators, 
throws himself at the feet of Caesar and implores 
pardon for his traitor brother. 

Caesar says: 

''Be not fond. 
To thinlc that Ccesar hears such rebel blood. 
That will be thawed from the true quality. 
With that which meeteth fools; I mean, sweet 
words, 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Low, crooked courtesies, and hase, spaniel 

fawning; 
Thy brother hy decree is banished; 
If thou dost bend, and pray and fawn for him, 
I spurn thee UTce a cur out of my way. 
Know, Gcesar doth not wrong; nor without cause 
Will he be satisfied ! 
But I am constant as the northern star. 
Of whose true fixed and resting quality 
There is no fellow in the firmament!'* 

The conspirators at this moment crowd aronnd 
the doomed hero with pretended petitions — and, 
instanter, Casca stabs Cassar in the neck, while 
several other murdering senators stab him through 
the body, and last Marcus Brutus plunges a dagger 
in the heart of his benefactor and father, when 
with glaring eyes and dying breath, the noble 
Caesar exclaims: 

"Et tu, Bruter (And thou, Brutus?) 

Thus tumbled down at the base of Pompey's 
statue the greatest man the world has ever known ! 

Then the citizens of Rome — royal, rabble and 
conspirators, were filled with consternation, while 
Brutus tried to stem the rising flood of indigna- 
tion. 

Mark Antony was allowed to weep and speak 
over the pulseless clay of his official partner and 
friend. 

Gazing on the cold, bloody form of the amazing 
Julius, he utters these pathetic phrases: 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

**0 mighty Ccescur! Dost tliou lie so low? 
Are all thy conquests^ glories^ triumphs^ spoils. 
Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well — 
I Tcnow not, gentlemen, what you intend. 
Who else must he let hlood, who else is ranh; 
If I myself, there is no hour so fit 
As CcBsar's death-hour; nor no instrument 
Of half that worth, as those your swords, made 

rich 
With the most ndhle hlood of all this world. 
I do beseech ye, if you hear me hard. 
Now, while your purpled hands do reeh and smoTce, 
Fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 
I shall not find myself so apt to die; 
No place will please me so, no mean of death 
As here hy Ccesar, and hy you cut off. 
The choice and master spirit of this age!" 

Brutus gave orders for a grand funeral, turning 
the body of the dead lion over to Antony, who 
might make the funeral oration to the people 
within such bounds of discretion as the conspira- 
tors dictated. 

Standing alone, by the dead body of Caesar in 
the Senate, Antony pours out thus, the overflowing 
vengeance of his soul: 

''0 pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth. 
That I am meelc and gentle with these butchers; 
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man 
That ever lived in the tide of times. 
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! 
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy — 
Which like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue; 
A ciirse shall light upon the limbs of men; 
Domestic fury and fierce civil strife 
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; 
Blood and destruction shall be so in use. 
And dreadful objects so familiar. 
That mothers shall but smile when they behold 
Their infants quartered with the hands of war; 
All pity cholced with custom of fell deeds; 
And Ccesar's spirit, ranging for revenge. 
With Ate by his side, come hot from hell. 
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice. 
Cry, 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war! 

The wild citizens of Eome clamored for the 
reason of Cesar's death, and Brutus mounted the 
rostrum in the Forum and delivered this cunning 
and bold oration in defense of the conspirators : 

^'^Eomans, countrymen and lovers, hear me for 
my cause, and be silent that ye may hear; believe 
me for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor, 
that you may believe ; censure me in your wisdom, 
and awake your senses that you may the better 
judge. 

^^If there be any in this assembly, any dear 
friend of Caesar's, to him I say that Brutus' love 
to Caesar was no less than his. 

"If then that friend demand why Brutus rose 
against Caesar, this is my answer. Not that I 
loved Caesar less ; but that I loved Eome more ! 

"Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all 
slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free 
men? 

"As Caesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was 

13^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I 
honor him, but as he was ambitious I slew him ! 

"There is tears for his love ; joy for his fortune ; 
honor for his valor, and death for his ambition ! 

^^ho is here so base that would be a bond- 
man? If any, speak; for him have I offended. 
Who is here so rude that would be a Roman? 
If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is 
here so vile that will not love his country? If 
any, speak; for him have I offended. 

"I pause for a reply.^' 

And then the rabble, vacillating, fool citizens 
said, "JSTone, Brutus, none," and continue to yell, 
"Live, Brutus, live! live!" 

Brutus leaves the Forum and requests the hu- 
man cattle to remain and hear Antony relate the 
glories of Caesar ! 

Finally Antony is persuaded to take the ros- 
trum, and delivers this greatest funeral oration of 
all the ages: 

''Friends, Bomans, countrymen, lend me your ears; 
I come to hury Ccesar, not to praise him; 
The evil that men do live after them; 
The good is oft interred with their hones; 
So let it he with CfBsar. The nohle Brutus 
Hath told you Ccesar was amhitious; 
If it were so it was a grievous fault; 
And grievously hath Ccesar answered it. 
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, 
{For Brutus is an honor ahle man. 
So are they all, all honorahle men); 
Come I to speaTc in Ccesar's funeral. 
He was my friend, faithful and just to me; 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

But Brutus says he was ambitious; 
And Brutus is an honorable man. 
He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill; 
Did this in Ccesar seem ambitious f 
When that the poor hath cried, Ccesar hath wept; 
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff; 
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 
And Brutus is an honorable man. 
You all did see, that on the Lupercal 
I thrice presented him a Jcingly crown 
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? 
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 
And, sure, he is an honorable man. 
I speaTc not to disprove what Brutus spoTce, 
But here I am to spealc what I Tcnow. 
You all did love him once, not without cause; 
What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for 
him ? 

judgment, thou art Hed to brutish beasts. 
And men have lost their reason! Bear with me; 
My heart is in the coffin there with Ccesar, 
And I must pause until it come baclc to me. 
But, yesterday the word of Ccesar might 

Have stood against the ivorld, now lies he there. 
And none so poor to do him reverence. 
0, Masters! If I were disposed to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong. 
Who, you all Icnow, are honorable men. 

I will not do them wrong; I rather choose 
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you 
Than I will wrong such honorable men. 
But here's a parchment with the seal of Ccesar; 

134: 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

I found it in his closet, 'tis his will; 
Let hut the commons hear this statement, 
(Which pardon me, I do not mean to read). 
And they would go and kiss dead Ccesar's 

wounds; 
And dip their napTcins in his sacred hlood; 
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory. 
And dying, mention it within their wills. 
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy 
Unto their issue. 

If you have tears prepare to shed them now. 
You all do know this mantle; I remember 
The first time ever Ccesar put it on; 
'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent; 
That day he overcame the Nervii; 
Look! in this place ran Cassius dagger through; 
See ivhat a rent the envious Casca made; 
Through this the well beloved Brutus stabbed; 
And as he plucked his cursed steel away, 
Mark how the blood of Ccesar followed it; 
As rushing out of doors to be resolved 
If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no; 
For Brutus, as you know, was Ccesar s angel: 
Judge, ye gods, how Ccesar loved him! 
This was the most unkindest cut of all; 
For when the noble Ccesar saw him stab. 
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms 
Quite vanquished him, then burst his mighty 

heart; 
And in his mantle muffling up his face. 
Even at the base of Pompey's statue. 
Which all the while ran blood, great Ccesar fell. 
0, what a fall was there, my countrymen! 
Then I and you and all of us fell down 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Whilst bloody treason nourished over us. 

O, now you weep; and I perceive you feel 

The impression of pity; these are gracious drops. 

Kind souls, what, weep you, when you hut behold 

Our Gcesars vesture wounded? LooTc you here. 

Here is himself marred, as you see, with traitors! 

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you 

up 
To such a sudden Hood of mutiny; 
They that have done this deed are honorable; 
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not 
That made them do it; they are wise and honor- 

able 
And vjill noi doubt with reasons answer you. 
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts; 
I am no orator, as Brutus is; 
But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man. 
That love my friends, and that they know full 

well. 
That gave me public leave to speak of him. 
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth. 
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech 
To stir men's blood, I only speak right on; 
I tell you that, which you yourselves do know; 
Shotv you stveet Ccesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb 

mouths. 
And bid them speak for me; but were I Brutus, 
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
In every wound of Ccesar, that should move 
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny T 

This oration fired the Eoman people to mutiny, 
and Brutus and Cassius with their followers fled 

m 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

from the city and prepared for war with Antony 
and Octavius, who had suddenly returned to Eome. 

The passionate quarrel between Brutus and Cas- 
sius in their military camp at Sardis was a nat- 
ural outcome of conspirators. 

Cassius accused Brutus of having wronged him, 
and Brutus twitted his brother assassin thus: 

"Let me tell you, Gassiiis, you yourself 
Are much condemned to have an itching palm. 
To sell and mart your offices for gold 
To undeservers r 

Cassius fires back this reply: 

**I an itching palm? 
You hnow that you are Brutus that speah this. 
Or by the gods this speech were else your last!'* 

The night before the battle of Philippi the 
spirit of Caesar appeared in the tent of Brutus, 
who startles from a slumbering trance and ex- 
claims : 

''Ha! who comes here? 
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes. 
That shapes this monstrous apparition. 
It comes upon me! Art thou anything? 
Art thou some god, some angel or some devil. 
That mahest my blood cold, and my hair ten stare? 
Speah to me, what thou art. 

The Ghost replies : 

"Thy evil spirit, Brutus! 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Brutus: Why comest thou? 
Ghost : To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. 
Brutus: Well, then I shall see thee again? 
Ghost: Ay, at Philippi T 

The armies of Antony and Octavins and Brutus 
and Cassius meet in crash of battle. 

Cassius is hotly pursued by the enemy, and to 
prevent capture and exhibition at Eome, craves 
the service of Pindrus to run him through with his 
sword. He says: 

''Now he a freeman, and with this good sword 
That ran through Ccesar's bowels, search this 

bosom. 
Stand not to answer; here, take thou the hilt; 
And when my face is covered, as His now. 
Guide thou the sword; Ccesar, thou art revenged. 
Even with the sword that Tcilled thee!'* (Dies.) 

Brutus is run to earth, and most of his generals 
dead or fled. He implores Strato to assist him 
to suicide, and says: 

"■/ pray thee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord; 
Thou art a fellow of good respect; 
Thy life hath had some smach of honor in it; 
Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face. 
While I do run upon it! 
Farewell, good Strato; Ccesar now be still, 
I killed not thee with half so good a will ! 

(Kuns on his sword and dies.) 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Antony and Octavius and his army soon find 
Brutus slain by his own sword^, and with a most 
magnificent and undeserved generosity Antony 
pronounces this benediction over the dead body 
of the vilest and most intelligent conspirator who 
ever lived! 

^^TMs was the noblest Boman of them all; 
All the conspirators^ save only he 
Did that they did in envy of great Ccesar; 
He only in a general honest thought, 
And common good to all made one of them. 
His life was gentle, and the elements 
80 mixed in him that Nature might stand up. 
And say to all the world. This was a manT 

The whole audience, led by Southampton, Es- 
sex, Bacon and Drayton gave three cheers and a 
lion roar for "Julius Cagsar,^' the greatest historical 
and classical play ever composed, and destined to 
run down the ages for a million years ! 



129 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER XIII. 

TWO TRAMPS. BY LAND AND SEA. 

''Travelers must he content." 

"Out of this nettle, danger, we pluch this Uower, 
safety/' 

The translation of Petrarch, Plutarch, Tacitus, 
Terence, and particularly Homer, by Chapman, 
gave a great impulse to dramatic writers, and in- 
spired a feverish desire to travel through classic 
lands where classic authors lived and died. 

Shakspere was a natural bohemian, and while 
he could conform to the conventionalities of so- 
ciety, he was never more pleased than when mix- 
ing with the variegated mass of mankind, where 
vice and virtue predominated without the guilt of 
hypocrisy to blur and blast the principles of sin- 
cerity. 

Art, fashion and human laws he knew to be 
often only blinds for the concealment of plastic 
iniquity, and were secretly purchased by the few 
who had the gold to buy. 

By sinking the grappling iron of independent 
investigation into every form and phase of human 
life, he plucked from the deepest ocean of ad- 

130 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

versitj the rarest shells^ weeds and flowers of 
thought, and spread them before the world as a 
new revelation. 

By mingling with and Imowing the good and 
bad, he solved the riddle of human passions, and 
with mind, tongue and pen unpurchased, he flashed 
his matchless philosophy on an admiring world, 
lifting the curtain of deceit and obscurity from the 
stage of falsehood, giving to the beholder a sight 
of l^ature in her unexpurgated nakedness ! 

On the first of May, 1598, William and myself 
determined to travel into and around continental 
and oriental lands, and view some of the noted 
monuments, cities, seas, plains and mountains, 
where ancient warriors and philosophers had left 
their imperishable records. 

Sailing through the Strait of Dover into the 
English Channel, our good ship Albion landed us 
in three days at Havre, the port town at the mouth 
of the river Seine, leading on to Eouen and up to 
the ancient city of Paris. 

Our good ship Albion was to remain a week 
trading between Havre and Cherbourg, when we 
were to be again on board for a lengthy trip to the 
various ports of the Mediterranean. 

Our first night in Paris was spent at the Hotel 
Eeims, a jolly headquarters for students, painters, 
authors and actors. 

LeMour was the blooming host, with his daugh- 
ter Nannette as the coquettish ^^roper in.^' Father 
and daughter spoke English about as well as Wil- 
liam and myself spoke French; and what was not 
understood by our mutual words and phrases was 
explained by our gesticulation of hand, shoulder, 

131 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



foot, eye, and clinking ^'franes'^ and ^^sovereigns." 
Cash speaks all languages, and it is a very ig- 
norant mortal who can't understand the voice of 
gold and silver. 

"Francs," "pounds" and "dollars" are the real 
monarchs of mankind! William in a prophetic 
mood recited these few lines to the ^^oys" at the 
bar: 

With circumspect steps as we picTc our way through 
This intricate world, as all prudent folTcs do^ 
May we still on our journey he able toi view 
The benevolent face of a dollar or two. 
For an excellent thing is a dollar or two; 
No friend is so true as a dollar or two; 
In country or town, as we pass up and down. 
We are code of the wallc with a dollar or two! 

^Do you wish that the press should the decent 

thing do, 
'And give your reception a gushing review, 
^Describing the dresses by stuff, style and hue. 
On the quiet, hand **Jenlcins" a dollar or two; 
'Fo(r the pen sells its praise for a dollar or two; 
'And Mngs its abuse for a dollar or two; 
And you'll find that it's easy to manage the crew 
When you put up the shape of a dollar or two! 

■Do you wish your existence with Faith to imbue. 
And so become one of the sanctified few; 
Who enjoy a good name and a well cushioned pew 
You must freely come down with a dollar or two. 
For the gospel is preached for a dollar or two, 
'Salvation is reached for a dollar or two; 

13^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

'Sins are pardoned, sometimes, hut the worst of all 

crimes 
Is to find yourself short of a dollar or two! 

Although the Bard delivered this truthful poem 
off hand, so to speak, in '"broken" French, the cos- 
mopolitan, polyglot audience "caught on" and 
"shipped" the Stratford "poacher" a wave of 
tumultuous cheers! 

That very night at the Theatre Saint Germain 
the new play of Gamier, "Juives," was to be en- 
acted before Henry the Fourth and a brilliant 
audience. 

William and myself were invited by a band of 
rollicking students to join them in a front bench 
"clapping" committee, as Gamier himself was to 
take the part of Old King Nebuchadnezzar in the 
great play, illustrating the siege and capture of 
Jerusalem. 

The curtain went up at eight o'clock, and the 
French actors began their mimic contortions of 
face, lips, legs and shoulders for three mortal 
hours, and while there was a constant shifting of 
scenes, citizens, soldiers, Jews and battering rams, 
yells, groans and cheers, it looked as if the audi- 
ence, including King Henry, was doing the most 
of the acting, and all the cheering! A maniac 
would be thoroughly at home in a French theatre ! 

The play had neither head, tail nor body, but it 
was sufficient for the excitable, revolutionary 
Frenchman to see that the Jews were being robbed, 
banished and slaughtered in the interest of Chris- 
tianity and the late Jesus, who is reported as hav- 



133 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

ing taught the lessons of "love/' "charity" and 
"mercy !" 

The "Son of God/' it seems, had been crucified 
more than fifteen hundred years before the audi- 
ence had been created; and although "Old Neb" 
of Babylon had destroyed a million of Hebrews 
several hundred years previous to the birth of the 
Bethlehem "Savior of Mankind/' the "frog" and 
"snail" eaters of France were still breaking their 
lungs and throats in cheering for the destruction 
of anybody! 

It was one o'clock in the morning when we got 
back to the hotel; and with the Bacchanalian 
racket made by the "students" and fantastic 
"grisettes" it must have been nearly daylight before 
William and myself fell into the arms of sleep. 

Sliding into the realm of dreams I heard the 
"mammoth man" murmur: 

''Sleep, that Tcnits up the raveled sleeve of care. 
The death of each day's life, sore labor s hath. 
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course. 
Chief nourisher in life's feast!" 

Jodelle, Lariney, Corneille, Moliere, Eacine, 
La Fontaine, Eousseau, Yoltaire, Balzac, or even 
Hugo, never uttered such masterly philosophy. 

After partaking of a French breakfast, smoth- 
ered with herbs and mystery, we hired a fancy 
phaeton and voluble driver to whirr us around 
the principal streets, parks and buildings of the 
rushing, brilliant city, everything moving as if the 
devil were out with a search warrant for some of 
[the stray citizens of his imperial dominions. 

134i 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The driver spoke English very well, and with a 
telephone voice, surcharged with monkey gestures, 
we listened to and saw the history of Paris from 
the advent of Caesar, Clovis, Charlemagne to 
Louis and Henry. A city directory would have 
been a surplusage, and we flattered the "garcon" 
by seeming to believe everything he said, exclaim- 
ing "Oh my V "Do tell V "Gee whizz !" "Did you 
ever !" "Wonderful !" and "!N"ever saw the like !" 

As our mentor and nestor pulled up at noted 
wine cafes to water his horse, we contributed to his 
own irrigation and our champagne thirst. Be 
good to yourself. 

It was sundown when we nestled in the Hotel 
Reims, but had been richly repaid in our visit to 
the king's palace, the great Louvre, St. Denis, 
Notre Dame and the great cathedrals, picture gal- 
leries, cemeteries and monuments that decorated 
imperial Paris. 

The evening before we left Paris we accepted 
the invitation of Garnier to visit the Latin Quar- 
ter. The playwright did not know William or 
myself, except as young English lords — "Buck- 
ingham" and "Bacon," traveling for information 
and pleasure, sowing "wild," financial "oats" 
with the liberality of princes. 

A well dressed, polite man, with lots of money, 
and a "spender" from "way back" is a welcome 
guest in home, church and state; and when it 
comes to the "ladies," he is, of course, "a jewel," 
"a trump" and "darling." They know a "soft 
snap" when they see it. 

Some of us have been there. 

While basking under the light of flashing eyes 

135 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

and sparkling wine at the Eoyal Cafe, surrounded 
by a dozen of the artistic "friends" of the "toast 
of the town," Garnier said he noticed us in the 
front bench the night before, and knowing us to 
be Englishmen, was desirous to know how his 
play, depicting the siege of Jerusalem compared 
with the new man Shakspere, who had recently 
loomed up into the dramatic sky. 

William winked at me in a kind of sotto voce 
way, and with that natural exuberance or intel- 
lectual "gall" that never fails to strike the 'T3uirs 
eye," I bluntly said that Garnier's philosophy and 
composition were as different from Shakspere's 
as the earth from the heaven ! 

The Frenchman arose and made an extended 
bow when his "girl" friends yelled like the "rebels" 
at Shiloh and kicked off the tall hat of the noted 
French dramatist! Great sport! 

Extra wine was ordered, and then an improvised 
ballet girl jumped into the middle of the wine room, 
with circus antics, champagne glasses in hand, 
singing the praises of the great and only Garnier ! 
Poor devil, he did not know that my criticism was 
a double ender. Just as well. 

I cannot exactly remember how I got to the 
hotel, but when William aroused my latent ener- 
gies the next morning, I felt as if I had been put 
through a Kentucky corn sheller, or caught up in 
a Texas blizzard and blown into the middle of 
Kansas. 

William was, as usual, calm, polite, sober and 
dignified, and while he touched the wine cup for 
sociability, in search of human hearts, I never saw 
him intoxicated. He had a marvelous capacity of 

136 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

body and brain, and like an earthly Jupiter he 
shone over the variegated satellites around him with 
the force and brilliancy of the morning snn. He 
was so far above other thinkers and writers that 
no one who knew him felt a pang of jealousy, for 
they saw it was impossible to even twinkle in the 
heaven of his philosophy. 

The day before leaving Paris we visited Ver- 
sailles and wandered through its pictured palaces, 
drinking in the historical milestones of the past. 
Here lords, kings, queens, farmers, mechanics, shop 
keepers, sailors, soldiers, robbers, murderers and 
beggars had appropriated in turn these royal halls 
and stately gardens. 

Eiot and revolution swept over these memorials 
like a winter storm, and the thunder and lightning 
strokes of civil and foreign troops had desolated 
the works of art, genius and royalty. 

ISTations rise and fall like individuals, and a 
thousand or ten thousand years of time are only 
a "tick^' in the clock of destiny. 

Early on the morning of the seventh of May, 
1598, we went on board a light double-oared gal- 
ley, swung into the sparkling waters of the Seine, 
and proceeded on our way to Eouen and Havre. 

The morning sun sparkling on the tall spires 
and towers, the songs of the watermen and gar- 
deners, whirring ropes, flashing flags, blooming 
flowers, green parks, forest vistas, shining cottages, 
grand mansions and lofty castles, in the shimmer- 
ing distance gave the suburbs of Paris a phase of 
enchantment that lifted the soul of the beholder 
into the fairy realm of dreamland ; and as our jolly 
crew rowed away with rhythmic sweep we lay under 

137 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

a purple awning;, sheltered from the midday sun, 
gazing out on the works of Dame N'ature with en- 
tranced amazement. 

William^ in one of his periodical bursts of im- 
promptu poetry, uttered these lines on 



CREATION. 

The smallest grain of ocean sand. 
Or continent of mountain land. 
With all the stars and suns we see 
Are emblems of eternity. 

God reigns in everything he made — 
In man, in beast, in hill and glade; 
Is sum and substance of all birth; 
Component parts of Heaven and Earth, 

The moving, ceaseless vital air 
Is managed by Almighty care. 
And from the center to the rim. 
All creatures live and die in Him. 

We Tcnow not why we come and go 
Into this world of joy and woe. 
But this IV e hnow that every hour 
Is clipping off our pride and power. 

The linTcs of life that malce our chain 
Of golden joy and passing pain. 
Are brohen rudely day by day. 
And like the mists we melt away. 

138 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The voice of Nature never lies. 
Presents to all her varied shies. 
And wraps within her vernal hreast 
The dust of man in pulseless rest. 

A hillion years of life and death 
Are hut a moment or a breath 
To one unhnoivn Immor'tal Force 
Who guides the planets in their course! 

As the stars began to peep throngh the gather- 
ing curtains of night, and the young moon like a 
broken circle of silver split the evening sky, we 
came in sight of the busy town of Eouen, with its 
embattled walls and iron gates still bidding de- 
fiance to British invasion. 

After a night^s slumber and a speedy passage 
our galley drew up against the side of our stout 
ship Albion, when gallant Captain Jack CNeil 
greeted us on board, and refreshed our manhood 
with a fine breakfast, interspersed with brandy 
and champagne. 

The next morning, with all sails filled, we wafted 
away into the open waters of the rolling Atlantic 
Ocean, touching at the town of Brest, land^s end 
port of France, and then away to Corunna in 
Spain, and on to Lisbon, Portugal, where we re- 
mained three days viewing the architectural and 
natural sights of the great commercial and ship- 
ping city of the Tagus. 

About the middle of May we swung out again 
into the breakers of old ocean, and held our course 
to the wonderful "Strait of Gibraltar," separating 
Europe from Africa, whose inland, classic shores 

139 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

are bathed by the emerald waters of the romantic 
Mediterranean Sea. 

We remained for a day at the rocky, stormy 
town of Gibraltar, meeting variegated men of all 
lands, who spoke all dialects, and preached and 
practiced all religions. 

The pagan, the Moslem, the Buddhist, the Jew 
and the Christian dressed in the garb of their 
respective nationalities, were wrangling, trading,; 
praying and swearing in all languages, every one 
grasping for the "almighty dollar." 

As the sun went down over the shining shoul- 
ders of the Western Atlantic, flashing its golden 
rays over the moving, liquid floor of the heaving 
ocean and Mediterranean Sea, William and myself 
stood on the topmost crag of giant Gibraltar, and 
the Bard sent forth this impulsive sigh from his 
romantic soul: 

How I long to roam o'er the hounding sea. 
Where the waters and winds are fierce and free. 
Where the wild bird sails in his tireless flight. 
As the sunrise scatters the shades of night; 
Where the porpoise and dolphin sport at play 
In their liquid realm of green and gray. 
Ah, me! It is there I would love to he 
Engulfed in the tomh of eternity I 

In the midnight hour when the moon hangs low 
And the stars beam forth with a mystic glow; 
When the mermaids float on the rolling tide 
And Neptune entangles his beaming bride, — 
It is there in that phosphorescent wave 
I would gladly sinh in an ocean grave — 

140 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

To rise and fall with the songs of the sea 
And live in the chant of its memory. 

Around the world my form should sweep — 
Part of the glorious, limitless deep; 
Enmeshed by fate in some coral cave. 
And rising again to the topmost wave. 
That curls in beauty its snowy spray 
And hisses the light of the garish day; 
Ah ! there let me drift when this life is o'er. 
To he tossed and tumbled from shore to shore! 

I clapped my hands intensely at the rendition of 
the poem, and echo from her rocky caves sent back 
the applause, while the sea gulls in their circling 
flight, screamed in chorns to the voice of echo and 
the eternal roar of old ocean. 

At sunrise we sailed away into the land-locked 
waters of the Mediterranean Sea, where man for a 
million years has loved, lived, fought and died 
among beautiful, blooming islands that nestle on 
its bosom like emeralds in the crown of immor- 
tality. 

We passed along the coast of Spain to Cape Nao, 
in sight of the Balearic Islands, on to Barcelona, to 
the mouth of the river Ehone, and up to the an- 
cient city of Avignon. 

In and around this city popes, princes and in- 
ternational warriors lived in royal style; but they 
are virtually forgotten, while Petrarch, the poetic 
saint and laureate of Italy, is as fresh in the mem- 
ory of man as the day he died — July 18th, 1374, 
at the age of seventy. 

William and myself remained all night in the 
Lodge House of the Gardens of "Vacluse/^ the 

143] 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

hermit home of the sighing, soaring poet, who 
pined his life away in platonic love for "Laura/' 
who married Hugh de Sade, when she was only 
seventeen years of age, and presented the noble- 
man ten children as pledges of her homespun af- 
fection. 

And this is the married lady who Petrarch, the 
poet, wasted his sonnets upon, and was treated in 
fact as we were told by the "oldest inhabitant" of 
Avignon, with supercilious contempt. 

Boccaccio and Petrarch were intimate friends, 
and both of these passionate poets lavished their 
love on "married flirts," who give promise to the 
ear and disappointment to the heart. 

I could see that while Shakspere reveled deep 
in the mental philosophy of Petrarch, and even 
plucked a flower from his rustic bower, he had no 
sympathy with lovesick swains, and as we signed 
our names in the Lodge House book, he wrote 
this: 

Petrarch, grand, immortal in thy sonnets; 
Sugared hy the eloquence of philosophy — 
Destined to shine through the rolling ages; 
Emulating, competing with the stars. 
Thy love for Laura, pure, unreciprocated; 
Yet, thou, foolish man, passion dazed and sad, 
Lilce many of the greatest of manTcind 
Lie dashed in the vale of disappointment; 
And flowers of hope, given hy woman, 
■Have crowned thy hrows with nettles of despair! 

ISText day the Albion sailed into the Mediter- 
ranean, passed by the island of Corsica (cradle of 
one of the greatest soldiers of the world), through 

U2 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

the Strait of Bonifacio, and in due course kept on 
to the flourishing city of Naples. 

It was dark twilight when we came to peer into 
the surrounding hills and mountains of classic 
Italy. 

To the wonder and amazement of every pas- 
senger on board, Mount Vesuvius was in bril- 
liant action, and the flash of sparks and blading 
lights from this huge chimney top of Nature 
dazzled the beholder, and produced a fearful sensa- 
tion in the soul. 

As the great Jaws of the mountain opened its 
fiery lips and belched forth molten streams of 
lava, shooting a million red hot meteors into the 
caves of night, the earth and ocean seemed to 
tremble with the sound and birds and beasts of 
prey rushed screaming and howling to their nightly 
homes. 

Shakspere entranced stood on the bow of the 
ship and soliloquized: 

Great God! Almighty in thy templed realm; 
And mysterious in thy matchless might; 
^SunSj moonSj planets^ starSj ocean, earth and air 
^Move in harmony at thy supreme will; 
And yonder torch light of eternity. 
Blazing into heaven, candle oif omnipotence — 
Lights thy poor, wandering human midgets — 
An hundred miles at sea, with lofty hope — 
That nothing exists or dies- in vain; 
But changed into another form lives on 
Through countless, houndless, blazing, brilliant 

worlds 
Beyond this transient^ seething, suffering sod! 

143 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

At this moment the vessel struck the dock and 
lurched William out of his reverie, coming "with- 
in an ace" of pitching the poet into the harbor of 
ISTaples. 

Captain O'Neil informed us that he would be 
engaged unloading and loading his ship for a 
week or ten days at JSTaples, before he started for 
Sicily, Greece and Egypt. 

William and myself concluded to hire a guide 
and ride and tramp by land to Eome, and view the 
ancient capital and test the hospitality of the 
Italians. 

Early the next morning we set out for the Im- 
perial City, perched on her seven hills, and en- 
lightening the world with the radiance of her classic 
memorials. 

Our guide, Petro, was a villainous looking fel- 
low, yet the landlord of the Hotel Columbo told 
us he was well acquainted with the mountain by- 
paths and open roads, and could, in the event of 
meeting robbers, be of great service to us. 

Petro wanted ten "florins" in advance, and wine 
and bread on the road; and as we could not 
do any better, the bargain was made, and off we 
tramped through the great city of Milan, scaling 
the surrounding hills and pulling up as the sun 
went down at the town of Terracino. 

After a good night's rest and hot breakfast, we 
started on horseback throua^h a mountain trail for 
the banks of the Tiber, but when within three 
miles of the Capitoline hills Petro seemed to lose 
his way, and rode off into the underbrush to find it. 

We stopped in the trail, and in less than five 
minutes after the disappearance of our faithful 

144 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

guide we were captured by a gang of bandits, 
whose garb and countenance convinced us that 
robbery or murder or both would be our fate. 

We were dragged off our horses, hustled into the 
forest gloom, through briars, over streams and 
rocks, until finally pitched into the tiptop moun- 
tain lair of Koderick, the Terrible. 

The evening camp fire was lit, and Tamora, the 
queen of the robbers, with a couple of robber 
cooks, was preparing supper for the whole band 
when they returned from their daily avocations. 

They seemed to be a jolly set, and with joke, 
laughter and song, these chivalric sons of sunny 
Italy were relating their various exploits, and 
laughing at the trepidation and futile resistance 
of their former victims. 

Just before the band sat around on the ferny, 
pine clad rocks for supper, Eoderick addressed 
William, and asked him if he had anything to say 
why he should not be robbed and murdered. 

William said he was perfectly indifferent; for, 
being only a writer of plays and an actor, working 
for the amusement of mankind, he led a kind of 
dog^s life anyhow, and didn't give a damn what 
they did with him. 

The Eobber Chief gave a yell and a roar that 
could be heard for three miles among the columned 
pines and oaks of the Apennines, and yelled, 
^"'Bully for you ! Shake V 

Eoderick then turned to me and said, "Who are 
you ?" 

I replied at once, "I am a fool and a poet." 

He grasped my hand intensely and yelled, "I'm 
another." That sealed our friendship, 

145 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Then these gay and festive robbers invited ns to 
partake of the best in the mountain wilds, with the 
request that after the evening feast was over we 
should give samples of our trade. 

With the blazing light of a mountain fire, 
hemmed in by inaccessible rocks and gulches, from 
a tablerock overhanging a roaring, dashing stream, 
five thousand feet below, William stood and was 
requested to give a sample of his dramatic poetry 
for the edification of the beautiful cut-throat au- 
dience! And this, as I well remember, was his 
encomium in Latin to the "Gentlemen" and 
"Queen" of independent, gold-getting, robbing, 
murdering, fantastic Italian "society." 

When first I heheld your noble hand 
Pounce from rock and lairs vernal. 
My soul and hair were lifted 
"With admiration and amazement. 
Free as air, ye sons of immortal sires. 
Hold these crags, defiant still. 
As eagles in their onward sweep — 
Citizens of destiny. 
Entertainment awaits your advent. 
Even beneath yon columned capitol! 
The emperors, pampered in power 
Were subject to some human laws. 
But you, great, wonderful chief, 
Rodericlc, the Terrible, and fierce 
Soar superior over all, bloody villain. 
Force with gold and silver alone — 
Dictating thy generous onslaughts! 
Ccesar, Pompey and Scipio 
Could not compete with thy valor; 

146 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Only Nero, paragon of infamy. 

Could match the renown of Roderick, 

Thy fame, great chief, boundless as the globe! 

Italy, Spain, France and England 

Pay constant tribute to thy purse. 

Travelers and pilgrims, seeking glory 

By kissing the pope's big toe 

Drop their golden coin and jewels 

Into thy pockets capacious. 

Hear me, ye sprites of Apennine, 

And the ghosts of murdered travelers 

Let the circumambient air 

Ring with universal cheers 

For Roderick, the glory of Robbers, 

And the terror of mankind. 

(Whirlwind of cheers.) 

At the conclusion of William's apostrophe to 
the prince of robbers, Tamora, the fair queen, 
jabbed me with a poniard and ordered me to sing. 

I mounted the platform rock, overlooking the 
horrible vale below, and sang in my sweetest strain 
"Black Eyed Susan," gesticulating at the con- 
clusion of each verse in the direction of the queen, 
who seemed to be charmed with my voice and 
audacity. 

An encore was demanded with a yell of delight, 
and I forthwith sang the new song "America," 
which was cheered to the echo — and as they still 
insisted that I "go on," "go on," I rendered in my 
best voice the recent composition of "Hiawatha." 

The robber band yelled like wild Indians, and 
the fair queen took me to her pine bower and 
fondled me into the realm of dreams^ although I 

147 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

could see that Eoderick was disposed to throw me 
on the rocks below — ^but, the "madam" was ^Tdoss" 
of that mountain ranch and gave orders with her 
poniard. 

As the earliest beams of morning lit up the 
crests of the Apennines we fed on a roast of roe 
buck and quail, and barley bread washed down by 
goblets of Falernian wine that had been captured 
the day before from a pleasure party from Brin- 
disi. 

The goblets we drank from were skulls of for- 
mer citizens of the world;, who attempted to dally 
with the dictates of Eoderick. 

The noble chief Eoderick and his imperial 
queen, Tamora, who seemed to rule her terrible 
husband, with one hundred of the most villainous 
cut-throats it had ever been my misfortune to be- 
hold, gave us a "great send off" from their inac- 
cessible mountain lair. 

Eoderick gave William a talismanic ring that 
shown to any of his brother robbers on the globe 
would at once secure safety and hospitality. 

Tamora in her sweetest mountain manner gave 
me a diamond hilted poniard, and then with a 
Fra Diavolo chorus, we were waved off down the 
precipitous crags with a special guide on the main 
road leading to imperial Eome. 

William and myself drew long breaths after we 
had passed the Horatio Bridge, and planted our 
feet firmly on the Appian Way, leading direct to the 
precincts of Saint Peter's, with its lofty dome shin- 
ing in the morning sun. 

Gentle reader, if you have never been in battle 
or captured by robbers, you needn't "hanker" for 

148 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

tte experience, but take it as you would your cloth- 
ing, "second hand." 

At the "Hotel Caesar" we brushed the dust from 
our anatomy, and ordered dinner, which was served 
in fine style by a lineal descendant of the great 
Julius, who wore a spreading mustache, a purple 
smile and an abbreviated white apron. 

In the afternoon we called on Pope Clement, 
who had heard of our experience with the rob- 
bers, and seemed very much interested in our 
narration of the details of our capture and enter- 
tainment. 

Clement seemed to be a nice, smooth man, set- 
ting on a purple chair with a purple skull cap on 
his head, and a purple robe on his fat form. 

His big toe was presented to us for adoration, 
but as we did not seem to "ad," he withdrew his 
pedal attachment and talked about the "relics" 
and the "weather." 

We did not purchase any "relics," and as to the 
Eoman "weather," no mortal who tries it in sum- 
mer desires a second dose. 

There seemed to be a continuous smell of some- 
thing dead in the atmosphere of Rome, while the 
droves of virgins, monks, priests, bishops and car- 
dinals seemed to be pressing through the streets, 
night and day, begging, singing, riding, and like 
ants, coming and going out of the churches con- 
tinually. 

Selling "relics," psalm singing and preaching 
was about all the business we could see in the Im- 
perial City. 

It is very funny how a fool habit will cling to 
the century pismires of humanity, and actually 

149 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

blind the elements of common sense and patent 
truth. 

We were offered a job lot of '^relics" for five 
florins, which included a piece of the true cross, a 
bit of the rope that hung Judas, a couple of hairs 
from the head of the Virgin Mary, a peeling from 
the apple of Mother Eve, a part of the toe nail of 
'Saint Thomas, a finger of Saint John, a thigh 
bone of Saint Paul, a tooth of Saint Antony, and 
a feather of the cock of Saint Peter, but we per- 
sistently declined the proffered honors and true 
'^relics of antiquity," spending the five florins for 
9 ^^night liner" to wheel us about the grand archi- 
tectural sights of the city of the Caesars. 

The night before leaving Rome William and my- 
self climbed upon the topmost rim of the crumbling 
Coliseum and gazed down upon the sleeping moon- 
lit capital with entranced admiration. 

The night was almost as bright as day, and the 
mystic rays from the realm of Luna, shining on 
gate, arch, column, spire, tower, temple and dome, 
revealed to us the ghosts of vanished centuries, 
and from the depths of the Coliseum there seemed 
to rise the shouts of a hundred thousand voices, 
cheering the gladiator from Gaul, who had just 
slain a N'umidian lion in the arena, when, with 
^^thumbs up," he was proclaimed the victor, deco- 
rated with a crown of laurel and given his freedom 
forever. 

Shakspere could not resist his natural gift of 
exurberant poetry to sound these chunks of elo- 
quence to the midnight air, while I listened with 
enraptured enthusiasm to the elocution of the Bard : 



150 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Hark! Saint Peter, with Ms brazen tongue 

Voices the hour of twelve; 

The wizard tones of tireless Time 

Thrills the silvery air; 

The multitudinous world sleeps. 

Pope and beggar alilce — 

In the land of lingering dreams — 

Oblivious of glory. 

Poverty, or war, destructive; 

Sleep, the daily death of all 

Throws her mesmeric mantle 

Over prince and pauper; 

And care, vulture of fleeting life 

Folds her bedraggled wings 

To rest a space, 'till first cocTc crow 

Hails the glimmering dawn 

With piercing tones triumphant; 

Father Tiber, roaring, moves along 

Under rude stony arches 

And chafes the wrinMed, rocJcy shores 

As when Romulus and Remus 

Suclcled wolf of Apennines f 

Vain are all the triumphs of man. 

These temples and palaces. 

Reaching up to the brilliant stars 

In soaring grandeur, vast — 

Shall pass away liTce morning mist. 

Leaving a wilderness of ruins. 

And, where now sits pride, wealth and fraud 

Pampered in purpled power — 

The lizard, the bat and the wolf 

Shall hold their habitation; 

And the vine and the rag-weed 

Swaying in the whistling winds 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Shall sing their mournful requiem. 
The silence of dark Babylon 
Shall hrood where millions struggled. 
And naught shall he heard in cruel Rome, 
But the wail of the midnight storm. 
Echoing among the trolcen columns 
Of its lofty, vanished glory — 
Where vain, presumptive, midget man 
Promised himself Immortality! 

After five days of sightseeing we took the public 
stage for Milan, guarded by soldiers, and arrived 
safely on board the Albion, which sailed away, 
through the Strait of Messina, around classic 
Greece to IN'egropont and on to Alexandria, Egypt, 
where we anchored for a load of dates, figs and 
Persian spices. 

William and myself took a boat up the Nile to 
Cairo, and hired a guide to steer us over the desert 
to the far-famed Pyramids. 

There in the wild waste of desert sands these 
monuments to forgotten kings and queens lift their 
giant peaks, appealing to the centuries for recog- 
nition, but although the great granite stone memo- 
rials still remain as a wonder to mankind, the 
dark, silent mummies that sleep within and around 
these funereal emblems give back no sure voice as 
to when and where they lived, rose and fell in the 
long night of Egyptian darkness. 

Eemains of vast buried cities are occasionally 
exposed by the shifting, searching storm winds of 
the desert, and many a modern Arab has cooked his 
frugal breakfast by splinters picked up from the 
bones of his ancestors. 

15^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

It was night when we got to the Pyramids, and 
we concluded to camp with an Arab and his fam- 
ily at the base of the great Cheops until next morn- 
ing, and then before sunrise scale its steep steps 
and lofty crest. 

A few silver coins insured us a warm greeting 
from the "Arab family," who seemed to vie with 
each other in preparing a hot supper and clean 
couches. 

They sang their desert songs until nearly mid- 
night, the daughter Cleo playing on the harp with 
dextrous fingers, and throwing a soft soprano 
voice upon the air, like the tones of an angel, 
echoing over a bank of wild flowers. 

Standing on the pinnacle of the Pyramid Wil- 
liam again struck one of his theatrical attitudes, 
and with outstretched hands exclaimed: 

Immortal Soli Image of Omnipotence! 
To thee lift I my soul in pure devotion; 
Out of desert wilds, in golden splendor. 
Rise and Hasli thy crimson face, eternal — 
Across the ivastes of shifting, century sands; 
Again is mirrored in my sighing soul 
The lofty temples and hastioned walls 
Of Memphis, Balbaclc, Nineveh, Badylon — 
Gone from the earth liTce vapor from old Nile, 
When thy noonday teams lick up its waters! 
Hark! I hear again the vanished voices 
Of lofty Memnon, where proud pagan priests 
Syllahle the matin hour, uttering 
Prophecies from Jupiter and Apollo — 
To devotees deluded, then as now. 
By astronomical, selfish fakirs, 

153 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Who pretend claim to heavenly agency 
And power over human souls divine. 
Poor hamhoozled man; Jcnow God never yet 
Empowered any one of his truant tribe 
To rule with a creed rod, image of Himself; 
And thou, oh Sol, giver of light and heat. 
Speed the hour when man, out of superstition 
Shall leap into the light of pure reason. 
Only believing in everlasting Truth! 

In a short time we crossed the sands of the 
desert and interviewed the Sphynx, but with that 
battered, solemn countenance, wrinkled by the 
winds and sands of ages, those granite lips still re- 
fused to give up the secrets of its stony heart, or 
tell us the mysteries of buried antiquity. 

We were soon again in the cabin of the Albion, 
sailing away to Athens, where we anchored for 
two days. 

William and myself ran hourly risk of breaking 
our legs and necks among the classic ruins of 
Athenian genius, where Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, 
Sophocles, Euripides, Pericles, Alcibiades, Demos- 
thenes^ Zeno, Solon, Themestocles, Leonidas, 
Philip and Alexander had lived and loved in 
their glorious, imperishable careers. 

We went on top of Mars Hill, and climbed to the 
top of the ruined Acropolis, disturbing a few 
lizards, spiders, bats, rooks and pigeons that 
made their homes where the eloquence of Greece 
once ruled the world. 

William made a move to strike one of his ac- 
customed dramatic attitudes, but I "pulled him 
off/' remarking that he could not, in an impromptu 

154: 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

way, do Justice to the occasion, and intimated that 
when he arrived at the .Red Lion in London, he 
could write up Cleopatra and Antony, and the 
ten-years' siege of Troy, with Helen, Agamemnon, 
Ulysses, Achilles, Pandarus, Paris, Troilus, Cres- 
eida and Hector as star performers in the plays. 

It was not very often that I interfered with 
William in his personal movements and aspira- 
tions, but as he had given so much of his poetry in 
illustration of our recent travels, and knowing 
that I was in honor bound to report to posterity all 
he said and did as his mental stenographer, I 
begged him to ^^give us a rest,'' and "let it go at 
that/' 

The next day the Albion bore away for the 
Strait of Gibraltar, rounding Portugal, Spain 
and France, sailing into the Strait of Dover, passed 
Gravesend, until we anchored in safety under the 
shadow of the Blackfriars Theatre, where a jolly 
crowd of bohemians greeted our rapid and success- 
ful tour of continental and classic lands. 

"TMs accident and flood of Fortune 
So far exceed all instance^, all discourse. 
That I am ready to distrust mine eyes 
And wrangle with my reason that 
Persuades me to any other trust/" 



155 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTEE XrV. 

WINDSOR PARK. ^^MIDSUMMER NIGHT's DREAM/' 

''This is the fairy land; spite of spites 
We talk with gohlins, owls, and elfish sprites. 

'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as 
Madmen tongue and hrainT 

"If music he the food of love, play on; 
Give me excess of it/* 

Shakspere had blocked out the play of "Mid- 
summer Night's Dream'' in the year 1593, and 
completed it in the summer of 1599. 

The story of Palamon and Arcite by Chaucer, 
and the love of Athenian Theseus for the Ama- 
zonian Queen Hippoljrta, as told by Plutarch, gave 
William his first idea of composing a play where 
the acts of fairies and human beings would as- 
similate in their loves and jealousies. 

One evening while seated at the Falcon Tavern, 
in company with the Earl of Southampton, Essex, 
Florio, Bacon, Cecil, Warwick, Burbage, Drayton 
and Jonson, William read the main points of the 
play, which was lauded to the skies by all present. 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Burbage, the manager of the Globe, suggested to 
Essex and Southampton that it would be a grand 
idea to have the "Dream" enacted in the park and 
woods of Windsor ! 

It was a novel idea, and one sure to catch the 
romantic sentiments of Queen Elizabeth, as old 
Duke Theseus, the cross-purposed lovers. Bottom 
and his rude theatrical troop, and the fairies, led 
by Oberon, Titania and Puck could have full 
swing in the forest, sporting in their natural ele- 
ments. 

In reading or viewing the play, the mind wan- 
ders in a mystic grove by moonlight and breathes 
at every step odors of sweet flowers, while listening 
to the musical murmurings of fantastic fairies and 
echoing hounds in forest glens. 

Theseus was the first and greatest Grecian in 
strength of body, second only to his cousin Her- 
cules, each reveling in the god-like antics of seduc- 
tion, incest, rape, robbery and murder ! 

The Persian, Egyptian, Grecian and Koman gods 
commingled with the heroes and heroines of man- 
kind and committed unheard of crimes with im- 
punity, the most outrageous villain seeming to be 
honored as the greatest god! 

The amphitheater grove in front of Windsor 
Castle, overlooking the Thames, was the place se- 
lected for the exhibition of the "Dream." Natu- 
ral circular terraces for the spectators. 

The Virgin Queen had sent out five thousand 
invitations to her wealthy and intellectual subjects 
to attend the new and romantic play of Shakspere, 
"Midsummer Night's Dream," on the 4th of July, 
1599. 

157 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Everything had been prepared in the way of 
natural and artificial scenery by the direction of 
William, while the Queen sat on a sylvan throne, 
embowered in vines and roses, surrounded by all 
her courtiers, ladies and lords, in grand, golden 
array. 

The night was calm, bright and warm, while the 
young moon and twinkling stars, shining over 
Windsor, lent a celestial radiance to the scene, 
where lovers and fairies mingled in the meshes 
of affection. Candles, torches, chimes, lanterns and 
stationary fire balloons were interspersed through 
the royal domain in brilliant profusion. 

Essex and Southampton were, unfortunately, ab- 
sent in Ireland putting down a rebellion. 

William took the part of Theseus, Field played 
Hippoljrta, Burbage played Puck, Heminge repre- 
sented Lysander, and Condell Demetrius, while 
Phillips and Cooke played respectively Hermia and 
Helen, Jo Taylor played Oberon and Eobert Ben- 
field acted Titania, the fairy queen. 

The characters Pyramus and Thisbe were played 
by Peele and Crosse. 

The play opens with a grand scene in the palace 
of Theseus, who thus addresses the Amazonian 
Queen Hippolyta: 



'Now, fair Hippolyta, our mutual hour 
Draws on apace, four happy days bring in. 
Another moon; hut, 0, methinks, how slow 
This old moooi wanes! She lingers my desires, 
LiTce to a step-dame, or a dowager. 
Long withering out a young man's revenue T 

15a 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Hippolyta : 

"Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights j 
And then J the moon shall behold the night 
Of our solemnities/" 

Egeus, a wealthy Athenian complains to Duke 
Theseus that his daughter Hermia will not consent 
to marry Demetrius, but disobedient_, insists on wed- 
ding with Lysander. 

Theseus decides that she must obey her father 
or suffer death, or enter a convent, excluded from 
the world forever. 

Theseus reasons with Hermia thus: 

"If you yield not to your fathers choice. 
Whether you can endure the livery of a nun; 
For aye to he in shady cloister mewed. 
To live a barren sister all your life; 
Chanting fair hymns to the cold, fruitless moon. 
Thrice blessed they that master so their blood. 
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage; 
But earthlier happy is the rose distilled. 
Than that, which withering on the virgin thorn 
Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness!'" 

This sentiment was cheered heartily by the great 
forest audience, and "Queen Bess" led the ap- 
plause ! 

Lysander pleaded his own case for the heart of 
Hermia, and sighing, says: 

"Ah, me! for aught that I could ever read. 
Could ever hear by tale or history. 
The course of true love never did run smooth!"" 

159. 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Hermia and Helena compare notes and wonder 
at the perversity of their respective lovers. 
Hermia says: 

'^TJie more I hate Demetrius, the more he follows 
me/' 

And Helena says: 

''The more I love him, the more he hatheth me I'' 

Hermia still sighing for Lysander says: 

''Before the time I did Lysander see. 
Seemed Athens as a paradise to me; 
then, what graces in my love do dwell 
That he hath turned a heaven unto hell/' 

Helena soliloquizes regarding the inconsistency 
of Demetrius since he saw Hermia: 

"Love holes not with the eyes, hut with the mind. 
And, therefore, is winged cupid painted blind; 
I will go tell him of fair Hermia' s Uight; 
Then to the wood, will he, to-morrow night. 
Pursue her; and for this intelligence 
If I have thanhs, it is a dear expense; 
But herein mean I to enrich my pain 
To have his sight thither and hack again." 

A number of rude workingmen of Athens pro- 
pose to give an impromptu play in the Duke's 
palace in honor of his wedding. 

160 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

It is a burlesque on all plays, and being so very 
crude and bad, is good by contrast ! 

Pyramus and Thisby are the prince and prin- 
cess, who die for love. 

Bottom is to play the big blower in the im- 
provised drama and the Jackass among the fairies. 
He says: 

"I could play a part to tear a cat in, to maJce all 
split"— 

"The raging rocTcs, 
With shivering shocTcs, 
Shall hrealc the lochs 
Of prison gates; 
And Phcebus' car 
Shall shine from far 
And malce and mar 
The foolish fates!" 

Puck, the mischievous Robin Goodfellow, who 
is ever playing pranks among his fairy tribe and 
human lovers, enters the forest scene and addresses 
one of the fairies thus : 

"How now, spirit, whither wander you?" 

Fairy says : 

"Over hill, over dale. 
Through Itush, through trier. 
Over parh, over pale. 
Through flood, through fire. 
Farewell, thou wit of spirits. Til he gone; 
Our queen and all her elves come here anon." 

161 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Puck, the funny tattler, tells of the jealousy of 
King Oberon^ because Titania has adopted a lovely 
boy: 

''For Oheron is passing fell and wrath. 
Because that she, as her attendant hath 

A lovely hoy stolen from an Indian Tcing, 
She never had so sweet a changeling !** 

This sly cut at Queen Elizabeth, who had re- 
cently adopted a young American Indian as her 
parlor page, elicited applause among the courtiers, 
yet "Lizzie" did not seem to join in the cheers ! 

Oberon and Titania meet and quarrel, just as 
natural as if they belonged to earthly passion 
people. 

''Ill met hy moonlight, proud Titania ! 
What, jealous Oheron? Fairy, sTcip hence; 
I have forsworn his bed and company/' 

Oberon : 

"Tarry, rash woman; am I not thy lord?" 
Titania : 

"Then I must be thy ladyT 

Oberon accuses Titania with being in love with 
Theseus and assisting him in the ravishment of 
antique beauties. 

She replies: 

16^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

''These are the forgeries of jealousy; 
Never met we on hill, dale, forest or mead; 
Or on the leached mar gent of the sea 
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind. 
But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our 
sport!" 

After the departure of Queen Titania and her 
fairy train, King Oberon calls in Puck to aid 
in punishing her imagined infidelity. 

''My gentle Puclc, come hither; thou remember st 
Since once I sat upon a promontory. 
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's bach 
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breathy 
The rude sea grew civil at her song; 
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres 
To hear the sea maid's music? 

Puck replies: 

"I remember/' 

Oberon continues: 

"That very time I saw, but thou could'st not. 
Flying between the cold moon and the earth 
Cupid all armed; a certain aim he tooh 
At a fair Vestal, throned by the West; 
And loosed his shaft smartly from his bow. 
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts; 
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon; 
And the Imperial Voteress passed on 

163 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

In maiden meditation, fancy free! 

Yet marlced I where the holt of Cupid fell; 

It fell upon a little Western Hower — 

Before milTc white; now purple with love's 

wound — 
And maidens call it Hove in idleness.' 
Fetch me that Hower; the herh I showed thee 

once. 
The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid. 
Will mahe, or man or woman madly dote 
Upon the next live creature that it sees. 
Fetch me this herh; and he thou here again 
Ere the Leviathan can swim a league/* 

Puck replies: 

'TZZ put a girdle round ah out the earth in forty 
minutes r 

The audience saw by this time that the 'fes- 
tal" and "Imperial Voteress" in "maiden medi- 
tation^ fancy free" was none other than Queen 
Elizabeth, and therefore three cheers and a roar- 
ing lion were given for the delicate and eloquent 
compliment of Shakspere to her Virgin Majesty! 

Tributes to the powerful, though undeserved, 
are received with spontaneous applause, while just 
praise for the poor receive no echo from the jeal- 
ous throng. Poor, toadying humanity! 

The infatuated Helena follows Demetrius into 
the dark forest, and though he tells her that he 
does not and cannot love her, she says: 

"And even for that, do I love you the more; 
I am your spaniel; and Demetrius 

164 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

TJie more you heat me, I will fawn on you. 
And to he used, as you use your dog I'* 

I have seen fool women and fool men act just 
that way, and the more they were spurned, the 
more they clung to their infatuation. 

Puck returns with the flower containing the 
juice that will make wanton women and licentious 
men return to their just lovers. 

Oberon grasping the herb says : 

'*^/ Jcnow a hanh whereon the wild thyme Mows 
Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows; 
Quite over'Canopied with blooming woodbine. 
With sweet musTc-roses, and with eglantines- 
There sleeps Titania, sometime of the night 
Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight. 
And with this juice Til strealc her eyes 
To maTce her full of hateful fantasies. 
And take thou some of it, and seeh through this 

grove; 
A sweet Athenian lady is in love 
With a disdainful youth; anoint his eyes; 
But do it, when the next thing he espies 
May be the lady/* 

Titania enters with her fairy train and orders 
them to sing her to sleep, and be gone. 

Oberon finds his queen sleeping and squeezes 
some of the love juice on her eyelids, saying: 

"What thou see'st when thou dost awake 
Do it for thy true love take; 
Love and languish for his sake; 

165 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

When thou makestj, it is thy dear. 
Wake when some vile thing is near/' 

Lysander and Hermia wander in the woods, 
lost and tired, and sink down to rest. He says : 

"One turf shall serve as pillow for us hoth. 
One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth!" 

Puck finds the lovers asleep, and says to Lysan- 
der: 

"Churl, upon thy eyes I throw. 
All the power that this charm doth owe. 
When thou waTcest, let love forbid 
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid/' 

Puck finds Bottom in the woods, rehearsing the 
play for the marriage of Theseus, and translates 
the weaver into an ass, with a desire for love. 
He wanders near the flowery bed where Queen 
Titania sleeps. 

She hears him sing, and opening her eyes, says : 

"What angel waJces me from my Howery bed? 
Thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me. 
On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee!" 

Bottom says: 

"MethinTcs, mistress, you should have little reason 
for that; 
Reason and love keep little company now-a-days!" 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Oberon relents and releases his Fairy Queen 
from her dream of infatuation with Bottom dis- 
guised as an ass, and says: 

''But first I will release the fairy queen. 
Be as thou wast wont to be; 

(Touching her eyes with the herb.) 
See as thou wast wont to see; 
Dian's hud o'er Cupid's flower. 
Hath such force and blessed power. 
Now, my Titania; waJce you, my sweet queen," 

Titania awakes and exclaims: 

''My Oberon, what visions have I seen! 
Methought I was enamored of an ass!" 

Titania is not the only woman who is enamored 
by an Ass ; in fact the mismatched, cross-purposed, 
twisted, infatuated affections of the sordid, de- 
ceitful earth are as thick as blackberries in July, 
while pretense and pampered power greatly pre- 
vail around the globe. 

Theseus and his train wander through the 
woods in preparation for the grand hunt and find 
Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia and Helena still 
asleep under the magic influence of Puck. 

Theseus wonders how the lovers came to the 
wood, and says to the father of Hermia: 

"But speaTc, Egeus; is not this the day 
That Helena should give answer of her choice f 

Egeus: 

"It is, my lord," 

1671 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Theseus : 

*'Go hid the huntsmen wake them with their horns, 
(Expresses surprise at their situation.) 
How comes this gentle concord in the world. 
That hatred is so far from jealousy, 
Toi sleep hy hate, and fear no enmity/' 

The lovers are reconciled to their natural choice, 
and Theseus decides against the father: 

"Egeus, I will overhear your will. 
For in the temple hy and hy, with us 
These couples shall eternally he Jcnit/' 

Bottom wakes and tells his theatrical partners: 

'*"/ have had a dream, past the wit of man to say 

what dream it was, 
Man is hut an ass, a patched fool. 
Eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath 

not seen, man's hand is not ahle to taste, his 

tongue to conceive^ nor his heart to report, 

what my dream was!" 

The vast audience laughed heartily at the be- 
fuddled language of Bottom, the weaver, and im- 
agined themselves under the like spell of fantastic 
fairies. 

The fifth and last act opens up with Theseus 
and his Amazonian Queen in the palace, prepared 
for the nuptial rites, and also the marriage of 
Lysander and Demetrius to their choice. 



^^J^ h^iA/i^^^C XfsJ^ iiP/^ fi^Vx^ tUx, ^t«^ 




17Q 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Theseus speaking of the strange conduct of 
lovers, delivers this great bit of philosophy: 

"More strange than true, I never may believe 
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. 
Lover's and madmen have such seething brains — 
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend 
More than cool reason ever comprehends. 
The lunatic, the lover and the poet. 
Are of imagination all compact; 
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold; 
That is the madman; the lover all as frantic. 
Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egypt; 
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling. 
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to 

heaven. 
And as imagination bodies forth 
The fo'mis of things unJcnown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a nameT 

The play of Pyramus and Thisby is then intro- 
duced to the palace audience^ when Bottom and his 
Athenian mechanics amuse Theseus and Hippolyta 
with their crude^ rustic conception of love-making. 

As the play proceeds Hippol3rfca remarks : 

"This is the silliest stuff that I ever heard/' 

And Theseus says: 

"The best in this hind are but shadows; 
And the worst are no worse, if imagination amend 
themr 

171 



Sh'akspere: Personal Recollections 

Pyramus appeals to the moon thus: 

''Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny teams, 
I thanlc thee, moon, for shining now so bright, 
I trust to taste of truest Thisly's sight T 

P3rram-QS and Thisby commit suicide, for disap- 
pointment in love, in the climax scene, and wak- 
ing again Bottom wishes to know if the Duke 
wants any more of the burlesque play. 

Theseus replies: 

*'Your play needs no excuse; for when the players 
are all dead. 
There need none to he llamed! 

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. 
Lovers to hed; 'tis almost fairy time, 
I fear we shall outsleep the coming mom. 
As much as we this night have overwatched. 
This palpable, gross play hath well beguiled 
The heavy gait of night — sweet friends, to bed; 
A fortnight hold we this solemnity 
In nightly revels and new jollity!'' 

The forest scene is filled with fairies, led by 
Puck, Oberon and Titania, all fantastically 
dressed, rehearsing and singing in their mystic 
revels. 

Puck leading, says: 

*'No(iv the hungry lion roars. 
And the wolf beholds the moon. 

172 



ShaKspere: Personal Recollections 

Whilst the heavy ploughman snores 
All with weary tosh foredone; 
And we fairies, that do run 
By the triple of Hecate's team. 
From the presence of the sun 
Following darkness lilce a dream." 

Oberon orders: 

"Through this house give glimmering light. 
By the dead and drowsy fire; 
Every elf and fairy sprite 
Hop as light as bird from brier; 
And his ditty, after me. 
Sing and dance it trippingly" 

Titania speaks: 

''First rehearse this song hy rote; 
To each word a warbling note. 
Hand in hand with fairy grace 
Will we sing and bless this place." 

Then all the fairies, joining hands at the com- 
mand of Oberon, dance and sing : 

"Every fairy taJce his gait. 
And each several chamber bless; 
Through this palace with sweet peace. 
All shall here in safety rest 
And the owner of it blest. 
Trip away, mahe no stay; 
Meet me all by breah of day!" 

in 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Then mischievous little Puck flies to the front, 
makes his final bow and speech, concluding the play 
of "Midsummer Night's Dream'^ : 

"If we shadows have offended. 
Think hut this, and all is mended — 
That you have hut slumbered here. 
While these visions did appear; 
And this weah and idle theme 
No more yielding hut a dream; 
Gentles, do not reprehend; 
If you pardon we will mend. 
And, as I am honest PucJc, 
If we have unearned luck. 
How to escape the serpenfs tongue. 
We will make amends ere long; 
Else the Puck a liar call, 
80 good night unto you all. 
Give me your hands if we he friends. 
And Bohin shall restore amends T 

Unanimous cheers rang through Windsor forest 
at the conclusion of this mystic play, and Queen 
Elizabeth called up Theseus (William), Hippolyta, 
Oberon, Titania and Puck, presenting to each a 
five-carat solitaire diamond — a slight token of Her 
Majesty's appreciation of dramatic genius. 

It was after two o'clock in the morning when a 
thousand sky rockets filled the heavens with varie- 
gated colors, indicating for fifty miles around, that 
^^Midsummer Night's Dream'^ had been success- 
fully launched on the ocean of dramatic imagina- 
tion! 



174 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE JEW. SHYLOCK. ^^MERCHANT OP VEITICE." 

''0, it is excellent 
To have a gianfs strength, hut it is tyrannous 
To use it like a giant." 

*'Had I power, I should 
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, 
Uproar the universal peace, confound 
All Unity on earth." 

In my peregrinations and bohemian investiga- 
tions I have met on several occasions, and in 
strange lands, Mr. Ahasuerus, the Jerusalem shoe- 
maker, who is reported to have jeered and scoffed 
at Christ as he passed his shop, bearing the heavy 
cross np the rugged heights of Calvary. 

That was a terrible day for Jesus of N'azareth 
(dying for the sins of others), but worse for his 
foolish brother, the Jew shoemaker ; for as punish- 
ment to the scoffing and heartless Ishmaelite, the 
"Son of God," bending under the weight of the 
cross, exclaimed to the "Son of Saint Crispin": 
"Tarry thou 'till I come ! Move on !" 

And from that hour to this the "Wandering 
Jew" has been traveling and seeking for peace and 

175 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

death, but has never found surcease from everlast- 
ing sorrow and misery. 

I have often met his business partners, Solomon 
Isaacs and David Levy ; and while these gentlemen 
are compelled by nations to "move on," they have 
the great gift of loading up their pack with the 
rarest jewels — silver, gold and diamonds being 
their great specialty — ^with ready made clothing, 
pawnshops and banks as convenient adjuncts. 

Their three golden balls, worn in front of their 
establishments, they say, represent energy, economy 
and wealth; while their victims insist that they 
represent passion, poverty and suicide. 

And yet these wandering Jews of all lands and 
climes, having no home or country anywhere, have 
the best of homes, churches, banks and temples 
everywhere. 

War and peace they often hold in their financial 
power, and therefore become the arbitrators and 
umpires of national fate. 

When my friend William was working on the 
rough sketch of the "Merchant of Venice," in the 
years 1598 and 1599, there was a great hate mani- 
fested against the London Jews, Dr. Lopez, the 
physician of Queen Elizabeth, having been re- 
cently tried and hung for the design of poisoning 
Her Majesty. 

The Jews were accused of clipping the coins of 
the realm, demanding one hundred per cent, usury, 
bewitching the people, sacrificing Christian boys 
on the altar of religious fanaticism and setting fire 
to the warehouses and shipping along the Thames. 

These outrageous stories were believed by many 
people, and Shakspere, being infected by the hate 

ire 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

of the multitude (for the first time in his intel- 
lectual career), fashioned the repulsive character 
of Shylock, who walks the world as a synonym of 
greed, hate and vengeance. 

Several Jew plays had been put on the London 
boards, like the "Venetian Comedy" and the "Jew 
of Malta," but none had the lofty pitch of Shak- 
spere's, who derived his main idea of the play 
from the Italian story of "Pecorone," by Floren- 
tina, and Silvayn's "Orator." 

Yet, with William's imagination, a hint was suffi- 
cient, the rose and acorn giving him scope enough 
to create flower gardens and forest ranges. 

The Jew has always been a great subject for 
the world's contention and condemnation, particu- 
larly since the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. 
If Christ, the Jew, suffered for others, his own 
race for nearly two thousand years have been 
"scapegoats" for private and public villains. 

From the days of Ferdinand and Isabella of 
'Spain, Louis the Fourteenth of France, Henry the 
Eighth and Elizabeth of England, Emperor Wil- 
liam of Germany and the Czars Nicholas and Alex- 
ander of Eussia, the Jews have been robbed, exiled 
and murdered by Christian rulers, presumptively 
for their rebellion against the State, but really as 
an excuse to rob them of their jewels and gold. 
The Caucasian Christian has never hesitated to 
rob and murder anybody anywhere for cash and 
country ! 

Look over the world to-day, and you behold 
nothing but diplomatic cheating, domestic and 
foreign robbery and international murder for in- 
dividual ambition and national territorial expan- 

177 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

sion ! The official hypocrite is the greatest liar of 
the century ! 

England, Germany, France, Eussia and the 
United States are this very day competing with 
each other in the race for universal empire! 
Considering that "Uncle Sam" has had only one 
hundred and twenty-six years of national life, he 
has forged to the front amazingly, and has become 
the grandest "General" on the globe ! He does 
things ! 

The "gentle reader" (confidentially speaking) 
may think this a slight digression from the "Mer- 
chant of Venice," which was enacted at the Globe 
Theatre, London, on the first Saturday in Decem- 
ber, 1599. The "gentle reader" may also have 
found out by this time that the "subscriber" pays 
little attention to the "unities of time and place," 
as a thousand years are but short milestones in the 
life of the "Strulbug" family ! 

What the "gentle reader" needs more than any- 
thing else is Icnowledge and truth; and he observes, 
if he observes at all, that I give bits of the most 
eloquent and philosophic speeches in all the plays 
of Shakspere, besides the true personal transactions 
and escapades of the Bard of Avon! 

The enactment of the various scenes of the 
"Merchant of Venice" takes place in the great 
water city — Venice, "Queen of the Adriatic," that 
ruled the commercial world two thousand years 
ago. 

Antonio, the Christian merchant, and Shylock, 
the usurious Jew, are the principal characters of 
the play, while Portia, the wealthy heiress, and 
Jessica, the daughter of Shylock, with Bassanio 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

and Lorenzo carry the thread of Shakspere's argu- 
ment trying to prove that it is Christian Justice to 
steal an old man's money and daughter, and punish 
him for demanding his legal rights ! 

In speaking privately to William I tried to have 
him change the logic and morals of the play, but 
his curt answer was: 

^^Jack, the dramatic demand and tyrant public 
must be satisfied." 

Burbage took the part of Antonio, Jo Taylor 
played Shylock, William played Portia, Condell 
acted Bassanio, Heming represented Lorenzo and 
Field played Jessica, Poole played Gratiano, Slye 
played the Duke. 

The Globe Theatre was packed from pit to loft 
by the greatest variety audience I had ever seen; 
lords, ladies, lawyers, doctors, merchants, mechanics, 
soldiers, sailors, and street riff-raff — all assembled 
to see and hear how the Jew, Shylock, was to be 
roasted by the greatest dramatist of the ages. 

Antonio in a street scene in Venice opens up 
the play thus: 

"In sooth, I Icnow not why I am so sad; 
That I am much ado to Icnow myself/' 

Salarino replies to the ship merchant: 

'^Your mind is tossing on the ocean; 
There, where your argosies, with portly sail — 
Lihe signiors and rich burghers of the flood. 
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea 
As they Uy to traffickers with their woven wings." 

179 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Antonio says to his friend Gratiano : 

"I hold the world hut as the world, Gratiano; 
A stage where every man must play a part. 
And mine a sad one/' 

But the light and airy Gratiano utters this phil- 
osophic speech, which the ^^gentle reader^' should 
cut out and paste in his hat : 

"Let me play the Fool; 
With mirth and laughter, let old wrinkles come; 
And let my liver rather heat with wine. 
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
Why should a man whose Mood is warm within. 
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? 
Sleep when he wakes f and creep into the jaundice. 
By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antoniot, — 
/ love thee, and it is my love that speaks; 
There are a sort of men, whose visages 
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; 
Anl do a wilful stillness entertain. 
With purpose to be dressed in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; 
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle, 
And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! 
0, my Antonio, I do know of these. 
That therefore only are reputed wise. 
For saying nothing; who I am very sure. 
If they should speak, would almost damn those 

ears 
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers 

fooUr 

180 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Bassanio, in love with the rich heiress, Portia, 
tries to borrow three thousand ducats from Shylock, 
and Antonio, his friend, is willing to give bond for 
the loan. 

The Jew and the Christian hate each other ; and 
Shylock vents his opinion: 

"How like a fawning publican he looks! 
I hate him, for he is a Christian; 
Antonio lends out money gratis and brings down — 
The rate of usury here with us in Venice. 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
He hates our sacred nation; and he rails. 
Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
On me, my bargains, and my well worn thrift. 
Which he culls interest; cursed be my tribe 
If I forgive him!" 

Antonio finally asks for the three thousand du- 
cats, and says: 

**Well, ShylocJc, shall we be beholden to you ?" 

Then in a speech of brave defiance, Shylock 
humiliates the Gfentile merchant in this manner : 

"Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
In the Rialto you have rated me 
About my monies, and my u^ury; 
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug; 
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe; 
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat, dog. 
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 

181 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

And all for use of that which is mine own. 
Well, then, it now appears you need my help; 
Go to, then; you come to me and you say: 
Shyloch, we ivould Imve monies; you say so; 
You, that did void your rheum upon my heard. 
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur — 
Over your threshold; monies is your suit. 
What should I say to you ? Should I not say; 
Hath a dog money? Is it possible 
A cur can lend three thousand ducats? Or 
Shall I tend low, and in a bondsman s hey. 
With bated breath and whispering humbleness say 

this — 
Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; 
You spurned me such a day; another time 
You called me — dog, and for these courtesies 
Til lend you thus much monies!" 

Antonio, not any way abashed at the scolding of 
the money lender, says: 

''I am as like to call thee dog again. 
And spit on thee again, to spurn thee, too!" 

Shylock then agrees to lend the three thousand 
ducats if Antonio will give bond and penalty to 
pay the money back with interest in three months. 

Shylock says: 

"Let the forfeit of the bond 
Be nominated for an equM pound 
Of your fair Hesh, to be cut off, and taken 
In what part of your body pleaseth me!" 

18^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The second act opens with Portia in her grand 
home at "Belmont/' awaiting suitors for her 
wealth, beauty and brains. 

Her father dying, left three locked chests, gold, 
silver, and lead, one of them containing the picture 
of Portia ; and the fortunate suitor who picked out 
that rich casket, was to be the husband of the bril- 
liant Portia. 

The Prince of Morocco and Prince of Arragon, 
with Bassanio, were the suitors. 

Portia says to Morocco: 

"In terms of choice I am not solely led 
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; 
Besides^ the lottery of my destiny 
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing/' 

Launcelot, the foolish serving man for Shylock, 
says to old Gobbo, his blind father: 

''Do you not Tcnow me, father f 
Gobbo replies: 

''AlacTc^sir, I am sand-hlind, I Tcnow you not," 

Launcelot makes this wise statement : 

"Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, 
You might fail of the knowing of me: 
It is a wise father that Tcnows his own child!" 

Shylock discharges Launcelot, and Jessica, the 
beautiful daughter of the money lender, parts with 

183 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

him regretfully — she gives him a secret letter to de- 
liver to her Christian lover, Lorenzo, and then says : 

"Farewell^ good Launcelot — 
Alack, what heinous sin it is in me 
To he ashamed toi he my father's child! 
But though I am a daughter to his hlood, 
I am not to his manners; Lorenzo, 
If thou Tceep promise, I shall end this strife; 
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife!" 

This beautiful Jewess forswears her birth and 
religion for infatuated love, and throws to the 
winds all duty and honor as a daughter; a rene- 
gade of matchless quality, stealing her father's 
money and jewels to elope with the fascinating 
Christian Lorenzo. 

The Hebrew race has not produced many Jes- 
sicas; and the morality taught by Shakspere of a 
daughter ^^fooling her father*^ is base and rotten 
in principle. 

Shylock says to his daughter : 

"Well, Jessica, go in to the house. 
Perhaps I will return immediately; 
Do as I hid you; 

Shut doors after you; fast hind, fast find, 
A proverh never stale in thrifty mind/' 

Then at the turn of his back the beautiful fraud 
Jessica says: 

"Farewell, and if my fortune he not crost, 
I have a father, you a daughter, lost!"* 

184 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Lorenzo with his friends appear under the win- 
dow of Shyloek's house to steal away Jessica, and 
she appears above in boy^s clothes, and asks: 

"WTio are you ? Tell me for more certainty. 
Albeit, III swear that I da Jcnow your tongue f 

He responds : 

"Lorenzo and thy love" 

Jessica before leaving her home spouts the fol- 
lowing stuff to her lover : 

"Here, catch this casJcet, it is worth the pains; 
I am glad 'tis night, you do not looTc on me; 
For I am much ashamed of my exchange; 
But love is hlind, and lovers cannot see 
The pretty follies that themselves commit; 
For if they could, Cupid himself would hlush 
To see me thu^ transformed to a hoy. 
I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
With some more ducats, and he with you 
straight !" 

Nice specimen of a dutiful daughter. 

Contrast the conduct of the Christian Portia 
with the Hebrew Jessica, and the latter's action is 
thoroughly reprehensible. 

Portia obeys the injunction and will of a dead 
father, while' Jessica violates criminally the duty 
she owes a live father, who is in the toils of personal 
and official swindlers. 

185 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Portia in her palace awaits foreign and domestic 
suitors for her hand, heart and wealth. 

The Prince of Morocco and his train first ap- 
pear. 

Portia in her splendid drawing room receives the 
Prince, and says to her waiting maid : 

i, ''Go draw aside the curtains, and discover 
The several caslcets to this noile prince; — 
Now malce your choice T 

The Prince reads the inscriptions on the three 
caskets, gold, silver and lead: 

"Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men 
desire." 

"Who chooseth me, shall get as mnch as he 
deserves." 

"Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he 
hath." 

The Prince asks: 

''How shall I Tcnow if I do choose the right f 

Portia replies : 

"The one of them contains my picture. Prince; 
If you choose that then I am yours withal." 

The Prince of Morocco makes a long speech on 
the beauty and glory of Portia, and then decides to 
open the golden casket. Portia hands him the key, 
and when the contents come to view he exclaims: 

"0 hell! what have we here!" 

"A carrion death, within whose empty eye 
There is a written scroll? Fll read the writing. 

1861 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

'All that glitters is not gold. 
Often have you heard that told; 
Many a man his life hath sold. 
But my outside to behold; 
Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
Had you been as wise as bold. 
Young in limbs, in judgment old 
Your answer had not been enscrolled. 
Fare you well, your suit is cold/ " 

The disappointed black prince says : 

^'Portia, adieu ! I have too grieved a heart 
To taTce a tedious leave; thus lovers part/' 

Portia exclaims after his exit: 

^'A gentle riddance; draw the curtains, go 
Let all of his complexion choose me soT 

When Shyloek returned home, fonnd his house 
deserted and robbed, he rushed into the street, and 
cried : 

"My daughter! my ducats! my daughter! 
Fled with a Christian? my Christian ducats! 
Justice! the law! my ducats and my daughter! 
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats. 
Of do(uble ducats, stolen from me by my daughter! 
And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious 

stones 
Stolen by my daughter! Justice! Find the girl! 
She hath the stones upon her and the ducats!" 

187 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The frantic raging of tlie old broken down, sonl 
lacerated Jew, only brought from that Christian 
audience, laughter, yells, and howling jeers. The 
mob spirit was there, and the appeal for justice by 
Shylock fell upon deaf ears and stony hearts. 

Portia still holds court for her hand and heart at 
beautiful "Belmont," setting like an Egyptian 
Queen in the circling, blooming hills of the blue 
Adriatic. 

The Prince of Arragon comes to the choice of 
caskets, and with lofty words in praise of virtue, 
says : 

"Let none presume to wear an undeserved dignity, 
0, that estates, degrees, and offices. 
Were not obtained corruptly! and that clear honor 
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! 
How many then should cover, that stand bare! 
How many be commanded that command! 
How much low corruption would then be gleaned 
From the true seed of honor! and how much honor 
PicTced from the chaff and ruin of the times!'* 

The Globe Theatre shook with applause at this 
fine political speech of the Prince, and may be 
well contemplated in the State transactions of to- 
day. 

The Prince unlocks the silver casket, and finds 
a portrait of a blinking idiot; and departing ex- 
claims : 

"Some there be that shadows Tciss, 
Such have hut a shadow's bliss; 

J88 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

There "be fools alive I wis — 
Silvered o'er, and so was ihis!" 

Portia soliloquizes: 

"Thus hath the candle singed the moth 
Of these deliberate fools, when they do choose. 
They hare their wisdom hy their wit to lose." 

And !N"erissa, the bright waiting maid, says : 

"The ancient saying is no heresy; — 
Hanging and wiving go hy destiny!" 

The third act opens with a street in Yenice, and 
friends of Antonio bemoan the reported loss of 
several of his ships at sea, which will eanse his de- 
fault and ruin, by the demands of Shylock. 

Salarino says to the Jew: 

"Why, I am sure if he forfeit, thou wilt not 
TaTce his flesh; what's that good forf 

Shylock now begins to gloat over his prospect of 
a dire vengeance npon the Christian Antonio, and 
replies to Salarino: 

"Toi hait fish withal; if it will feed nothing else. 
It will feed my revenge ! 
Antonio hates me because Tm a Jew; 
Hath not a Jew eyes f Hath not a Jew hands; 
Organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions^ 
Fed with the same food, hurt with the same wea- 
pons, 

189 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Subject to the same diseases, healed by the same 

means. 
Warmed and cooled by the same summer and 

winter. 
As a Christian is? If you pich us, do we not 

bleed? 
If you ticJele us do we not laugh ? if you poison us 
Do we not die ? and if you wrong us shall we not 

revenge? 
The villainy you teach me, I will execute f' 

Tubal, the Hebrew friend of Shylock, says : 

'^But Antonio is certainly undone," 

Shylock delighted says: 

''That's true, that's very true. 
Tubal, fee me an officer; bespealc him a fortnight 

before. 
I will have the heart of Antonio if he forfeit 

the bond. 
Go, Tubal, meet me at our synagogue/' 

Pbrtia again appears for the third time to un- 
dergo matrimonial choice. 

Bassanio, the particular friend of Antonio, is 
the real love suitor for the hand and heart of the 
beautiful Portia, and appears at her palace, at- 
tended by his faithful Venetian friends. He is a 
high-toned, but impecunious Italian gentleman, 
whose heart and soul are ninety per cent, larger 
than his pockets. 

190 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Portia seems to be fascinated with Bassanio, and 
wishes him to remain at her home and take time 
in choosing the right casket, but he wants to act 
instanter, confessing his love. 

Portia says: 

''Let music sound while he doth make his choice; 
Now he goes. 

With no less dignity, hut with much more love 
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
To the sea monster T 

Bassanio, standing before the leaden casket, ut- 
ters this high sounding, moral, truthful speech: 

"The world is still deceived with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt. 
But, being seasoned with a gracious voice 
Obscures the show of evil f In religion. 
What damned error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it, and approve it with a text. 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 
There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
Some marh of virtue on his outward parts! 
Hoiv many cowards whose hearts are all as false 
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
The beard of Hercules, and frowning Mars; 
Who^ inward searched, have livers white as milk ? 
And these assume but valor's excrement. 
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty 
And you shall see His purchased by the weight; 
Which therein works a miracle in nature. 
Making them lightest that wear most of it; 

in 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

So are those curled, snaky golden locks. 

Which make such wanton gambols with the wind 

Upon supposed fairness, often known 

To he the dowers of a second head; 

The scull that bred them in the sepulchre. 

Thus ornament is hut the treacherous shore 

To a most dangerous sea! 

Thou meagre lead casket. 

Which rather rebuffs than dost promise aught. 

Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence. 

And here choose I; joy the consequence T 

Opening the leaden casket, Bassanio exclaims : 

''What find I here? 
Fair Portia's counterfeit. What demigod 
Hath come so near creation; 
Here's the scroll. 

The continent and summary of my fortune — 
If you he well pleased with this. 
And hold your fortune for your hliss. 
Turn you where your lady is 
And claim her with a loving kiss!'' 

Bassanio kisses Portia, and she makes this wo- 
manly speech: 

''You see me. Lord Bassanio, where I stand 
Such as I am; though for myself alone 
I would not he ambitious in my wish 
To wish myself much better; yet, for you 
I would he trebled twenty times myself; 
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
more rich. 

192 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Happiest of all is that my fond spirit 
Commits itself to yours to he directed. 
As from her Lord, her Governor, her King I 
Myself and what is mine, to you and yours 
Is now converted; hut now I was the Lord 
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants. 
Queen o'er myself; and even now, hut now. 
This house, these servants, and this same myself. 
Are yours, my Lord, I give them with this ring; 
Which when you part from, lose, or give away. 
Let it presage the ruin of your love. 
And he my vantage to exclaim to your 

Bassanio tells Portia that he is not a freeman, 
that Antonio borrowed three thousand ducats for 
him from Shylock, and that now he is miserable 
because Antonio may lose his life by the Jew claim- 
ing a pound of flesh in forfeit of the bonded debt. 

Portia proposes to pay six thousand ducats 
rather than Antonio suffer, and says to Bassanio : 

"First go with me to church and call me wife. 
Then away to Venice to your friend. 
You shall have gold 
To pay the petty deht twenty times over!" 

Shylock swears out a writ and puts Antonio in 
jail, and demands trial before the Grand Duke of 
Venice. 

The Duke in open court, with all the witnesses 
and lawyers and people present, implores Shylock 
not to insist to cut a pound of flesh from the body 
of Antonio, and argues for mercy. 

193 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

But, Shylock, impenetrable to the cries of mercy, 
says to the judge : 

*'I have told your grace of what I purpose; 
And hy our holy Sabbath have I sworn. 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond. 
The pound of flesh which I demand of him 
Is dearly bought^ is mine, and I will have it; 
If you deny me, fye upon your law! 
I stand for judgment; shall I have it f* 



A learned doctor of laws, Bellario, is expected to 
appear as the advocate for Antonio, and the Duke 
awaits him; but receives a letter saying that a 
young lawyer named Balthazar will represent him, 
as sickness prevents his presence. 

Portia disguised like a doctor of laws appears in 
court. 

The Duke asks : ^^Come you from old Bellario ?" 

Portia replies: "I did, my lord.'^ 

Antonio and Shylock stand up in court, and 
Portia, after surveying each, inquires: 

"Is your name Shylock ?" 

He replies: '^^Shylock is my name." 

She says to Antonio: "You stand within Shy- 
lock's control, do you not?^' 

He responds: "Ay, so he says." 

Portia asks : "Do you confess the bond ?" 

Antonio replies: "I do." 

Portia speaks: "Then must the Jew be merci- 
ful?" 

Shylock asks: "On what compulsion must I? 
Tell me that?" 



a94: 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Then Portia rises in court and makes this lofty, 
never to be forgotten speech: 

''The quality of mercy is not strained; 
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven. 
Upon the place beneath; 't is twice blessed; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that tahes; 
^Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown; 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power. 
The attribute to awe and majesty; 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of Icings; 
But mercy is above his sceptred sway. 
It is enthroned in the hearts of Icings, 
It is an attribute to God himself. 
And earthly poiuer doth then show liJcest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — 
That in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy, I have spolce this much 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea; 
Which, if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
Must needs give sentence against the merchant 
therer 

Shylock, with unforgiving spirit, replies : 

"'My deeds upon my head! I crave the law. 
The penalty and forfeit of my bond!" 

Portia asks: 

''Is not Antonio able to discharge the money f 

195 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Bassanio replies: 

''Yes; here I tender it for him in the court; 
Yea, twice the sum/' 

and still appealing to the Duke, says : 

''To do a great right, do a little wrong. 
And curb this cruel devil of his will I'' 

Portia says: 

"There is no power in Venice can altar a decree 
established/' 

And Shylock, lighting up with joy, replies : 

"A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel I" 

Preparation is made to cut the pound of flesh 
from the breast of Antonio; and this brave old 
Christian merchant says to his dearest friend, Bas- 
sanio : 

PAGE 

"Fare you well! 
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you; 
For herein fortune shows herself more kind 
Than is her custom; it is still her use 
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth. 
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow. 
An age of poverty," 

Portia, speaking to Shylock, says: 

"Take thou thy pound of flesh; 
But, in the cutting, if thou dost shed 

196 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

'One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscated 
Unto the State of Venice T 

The Jew finding himself absolutely blocked con- 
sents to take the money offered. 

Yet, Portia tells him that his property and life 
are now at the mercy of the Duke because he has 
conspired against the life of a citizen of Venice, 
and bids him : 

*'Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Buke r 

Then the great Duke, judge of the court, speaks 
to Shylock: 

''That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, 
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it; 
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's, 
The other half conies to the general state F' 

Shylock bravely replies: 

''Take my life and all, pardon not that; 
You take my house, when you do take the prop 
That doth sustain my house; you take my life 
When you do take the means whereby I live!" 

Then Antonio says if the Jew will give up all 
his property to Lorenzo and his daughter Jessica, 
and become a Christian, he the "Merchant of 
Venice," will be content. 

Portia then triumphantly asks: 

"Art thou content, Jew, what dost thou sayf 

in 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

And poor old Shylock gasps : 
"I am content" 

Thus ends one of the most barefaced swindles 
of the ages ; and my friend William is responsible 
for the nefarious and systematic machinery of 
roguery and persecution injected into the play to 
satisfy Christian hate against the wandering Jew. 

In looking around the world even to-day, we 
might truthfully exclaim : 

"0, Christianity ! Christianity ! how many crimes 
are committed in thy name !" 

The fifth act of the "Merchant of Venice" 
winds up with harmonious love and prosperity for 
all concerned. 

At the beautiful home of "Behnont," Bassanio, 
Portia, Lorenzo and Jessica, as well as Gratiano 
and Nerissa are married and living in blissful asso- 
ciation. 

In the moonlit, lovelit conversation between 
Lorenzo and his Jewish wife, Jessica, Shakspere 
wings in some of his finest classical allusions, a 
word banquet for all passion struck lovers. 

Lorenzo seated amid waving trees, trailing vines 
and perfumed flowers illuminated by the mystic 
rays of Luna, says to Jessica : 

"The moon shines bright; in such a night as this. 
When the sweet wind did gently hiss the trees. 
And they did mahe no noise; in such a night, 
Troilus, methinhs, mounted the Trojan walls. 
And sighed his soul towards the Grecian tents 
Where Cressid lay that night" 

il98S 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Jessica replies : 

'In such a nigJit 

Did Thishe fearfully o'ertrip the dew; 
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself. 
And ran dismayed away/' 

Then Lorenzo talks : 

[In such a night 

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 
Upon the wild sea banhs^ and waved her love 
To come again to Carthage." 

And Jessica: 

'In such a night 

Medea gathered the enchanted herhs 

That did renew old Aesonf 

Lorenzo then triumphant speaks : 

'In such a night 

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew; 
And with an unthrifty love did run from Venice, 
As far as Belmont/' 

Jessica satirically replies : 

'In such a night 

Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well; 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith. 
And ne'er a true one/' 

199 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Lorenzo fires back this answer: 

^'And in such a night 
Did pretty Jessica, lihe a little shrew 
Slander her love, and he forgave it her." 

Jessica gets in the last word, and says : 

"I would outnight you, did nobody come; 
But harh, I hear the footing of a man" 

Lorenzo declines to enter the house for rest or 
sleep, but still discourses of love and music: 

"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this hanh! 
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night. 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica; looTc, how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; 
There's not the smallest orb, which thou beholdest 
But in his motion lihe an angel sings. 
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins; 
Such harmony is in immortal souls; 
But, whiVst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot have it! 
By the sweet power of music; therefore, the poet 
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and 

Hoods. 
Since naught so stocTcish, hard and full of rage 
But music for the time doth change his nature. 
The man that hath no music in himself 
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds. 
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; 

J800 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The moiiom of Jiis spirit are dull as night 
And his affections darJc as Erel)us; 
Let no such man he trusted." 

Portia, Bassanio and friends arrive from the trial 
of Antonio at Venice, and at the brilliant home of 
Belmont all is peace and love. 

Bassanio discovers that the young lawyer in dis- 
guise was Portia, and she twits him for giving away 
his ring to the young advocate, as a recompense for 
clearing Antonio from the toils of Shylock; and 
then she discourses to her friends about music by 
night : 

"Methinks it sounds much sweeter than hy day; 
The crow doth sing as sweetly as the larh. 
When neither is attuned; and I thinTc 
The nightingale, if she should sing hy day 
When every goose is cacTcling, would he thought 
No hetter a musician than the wren. 
How many things hy season, seasoned are 
To their right praise and true perfection! 
Peace, there, the moon sleeps with Endymion 
And would not he awaTced." 

(Music ceases and all retire.) 

Music murmurs through the soul 
'Hopes of a sweet heavenly goal. 
And enchants from pole to pole 
While the planets round us roll! 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE SUPERNATURAL. "hAMLET." 



a^-T . ,,T-r,m >> 



<t 



The time is out of joint; cursed spite. 
That ever I was horn to set it right. '^ 

"Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge 
Had stomach for them all/^ 

Shakspere, in January, 1600, was at the 
height of his dramatic renown, and at the age of 
thirty-six was the ripest philosopher in the world, 
knowing more about the secret impulses of the 
human heart than any other man. 

I could see a great change in his life and thought ; 
for a shade of settled melancholy characterized his 
action, since the death and burial of Spenser, and 
the downfall of Essex and Southampton, through 
the vengeance of Cecil and Bacon, jealous courtiers, 
who poisoned Queen Elizabeth against the most 
noted lords of her court. 

Shakspere's theatrical company became involved 
in the conspiracy of Essex, and an edict was issued 
against the Blackfriars and Globe playhouses per- 
forming their dramatic satires. Children players 
took their places. 

Through the particular vengeance of Lord 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Bacon, charges of treason were trumped up against 
Essex, the former benefactor of Bacon, and in due 
course the head of Essex went to the block in 
February, 1601. 

Thus perished one of the brightest, bravest and 
loftiest peers of England, a victim to the spleens- 
hate and tyranny of the ugly Elizabeth, a woman 
without conscience or morality, when her per- 
sonal interest was involved. She shines out as one 
of the greatest and most infamous queens of his- 
tory, and so long as lofty crime is remembered she 
will remain on the top pedestal of royal iniquity. 

In the course of our classical and historical read- 
ings, William had become very much interested in 
the tragic story of Amleth or Hamlet as told by the 
Danish writer, Saxo — and Seneca^the great Eoman, 
in his story of Cornelia gives the same tragic tale, 
while Garnier, the French dramatist, as well as 
Kyd, the friend of Shakspere, made plays out of 
the tragic history of the Prince of Denmark 

But it was left for my friend William to gather 
up the historical bones of the ancient story, and 
articulate them into a breathing, living, passionate, 
divine being, whose lofty words and phrases should 
go sounding down the centuries, thrilling and re- 
verberating in the soul-lit memory of mankind. 

The supernatural or spiritual part of creation 
had ever a fascinating influence upon the Bard 
of Avon, and all the outward manifestations of 
nature were infallible hints to him of the inward 
sources of the Divine, and an absolute belief in the 
immortality of the soul! His own mind was the 
best evidence of divinity ! 

Night after night in the winter of 1600, William 

203 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

would read over, and ponder upon ^^scraps of 
thought/^ that he had at various times put into the 
mouth of Hamlet, and in our new quarters, near 
Temple Bar, I assisted him in composing the 
dramatic story of the melancholy Dane. 

That is, I blew the bellows, and when his 
thought was heated to a red rose hue he ham- 
mered out the play on the anvil of his genius, and 
made the sparfe fly in a shower of pristine glory. 

His literary blacksmith shop was richly fur- 
nished with all the rough iron bars and crude in- 
gots of vanished centuries; and all the best dra- 
matic writers of London filled his thought factory 
with contributions of their inventions. He worked 
many of their rough pieces of thought into his 
dramatic plots ; but when the phrase, scene and act 
were finished and placed before the footKghts for 
rendition, it sailed away, a full rigged ship of 
dramatic grandeur, showing nothing but the royal 
workmanship of a master builder, the Homer, 
Phidias and Angelo of artistic perfection. 

Mankind cares but little for the various kinds 
of wheat that compose the loaf, the wool or cotton 
that's in the garment, the timber or stone in the 
house, or the kind of steel in the battleship or guns ; 
all they look for is the perfect structure, as they may 
see to-day in Shakspere's greatest play — ^^Hamlet." 

While Hamlet is the central figure of the play, 
old Polonius, the diplomatic double dealer, Laertes, 
his son, and Ophelia, his daughter, act prominently, 
while Horatio and the ghost of Hamlet's father ex- 
press words of lasting remembrance. 

Cruel Claudius, the king who murdered Hamlet's 
father, stole his throne and seduced his wife, is 

^04 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

shown Tip as a first-class criminal villain, while 
Gertrude, the mother of the young prince, is one 
of the most sneaking, mild, incestuous queens in 
history. Such she devils, with heaven in their eyes 
and face, honeyed words on their lips, and gall and 
hell in their hearts, are the real seducers of in- 
fatuated, willing, ambitious man; and each should 
dangle at the end of the same rope or hemlock to- 
gether ! 

Contrast Gertrude with Ophelia, and you have a 
fiend of chicanery and crime, with a sweet angel 
of innocence : "Too good, too fair to be cast among 
the briers of this working day world and fall and 
bleed upon the thorns of life. Like a strain of sad, 
sweet music which comes floating by us on the 
wings of night and silence, like the exhalation of 
the violet dying even upon the sense it charms, 
like the snowflake dissolved in air before it has 
caught a stain of earth ; like the light surf, severed 
from the billow, which a breath disperses, such is 
the character of the delicate and sanctified 
Ophelia.^' 

In December, 1601, the ban of disgrace was 
taken from the Globe Theatre, and Burbage and 
William were permitted to continue their dramatic 
exhibitions. 

"Hamlet'^ was played the night before Christmas. 
The house was packed closer than grass on an Eng- 
lish lawn, and the applause was almost continuous, 
like the moan or roar of a distant sea. 

Shakspere played the Ghost, Burbage acted Ham- 
let, Jo Taylor played Horatio, Heminge played 
Ophelia, Peele played Polonius, Condell acted 
Claudius, Kempt played Gertrude, Cooke acted 

205 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Laertes, and the other parts were taken by the best 
stock actors. 

The play opens up on a platform before the 
castle at "Elsinore," Copenhagen, Denmark. 

Bernardo and Francisco are soldiers on night 
duty. Bernardo says : "Wlio's there ?" Francisco 
says: "Nay, answer me; stand and unfold your- 
self.'^ 

The ghost of Hamlet's father appears to the 
night officers, and also to Horatio and Marcellus, 
but will not speak. They reveal the wonderful 
story to Hamlet, who makes ready to see and talk 
to the Ghost the next night at twelve o'clock. 

In the meantime, the king, queen and courtiers 
gather at the grand throne of the castle and talk of 
the late king. 

Hamlet is moody and sad, and will not be com- 
forted, although persuaded by King Claudius and 
his mother. 

Claudius addressing Hamlet, says : 

*'But, now my nephew Hamlet, and my son 
How is it that the clouds still hang on you?'' 

Hamlet says (aside) : 

'^A little more than Tcin and less than hind. 
Not so, my lord; I am too much in the sun/' 

Hamlet's mother rebukes him about grieving for 
his father, and says: 

^^Do not forever with thy veiled lids 
SeeJc for thy noble father in the dust; 

206 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Thou hnowest His common^ all that live must die. 
Passing through nature to eternity!" 

Hamlet says: 

^'Ay, madam, it is common/' 

Queen says: 

''If it he. 
Why seems it so particular with theef 

And then surcharged with suspicion of her secret 
villainy Hamlet exclaims : 

''Seems, madam I Nay it is; I Jcnow not 'seems/ 
'Tis not alone my inJcy cloah, good mother. 
Nor customary suits of solemn hlacJc, 
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath. 
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye. 
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage. 
Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief 
That can denote me truly; these indeed seem. 
For they are actions that a man might play; 
But I have that within which passeth show. 
These hut the trappings and the suits of woe." 

Then, after the exit of the old murder-king and 
his particeps criminis queen — Hamlet ponders to 
himself on life and death in these lofty lines: 

"O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt. 
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! 
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed 
His canon against self slaughter! God! Ood! 

207, 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

How lueary, stale. Hat and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of this world! 
Fye on't ! Fye ! 'tis an unweeded garden. 
That grows to seed; things ranJc and gross in 

nature 
Possess it merely. That it should come to this! 
But two months dead! nay, not so much, not two; 
80 excellent a King, that was, to this 
Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother. 
That he might not heteem the wind of heaven 
Visit her face toa roughly. Heaven and earth ! 
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him. 
As if increase of appetite had grown 
By what it fed on; and yet, within a month — 
Let me not thinh on it — frailty, thy name is wO' 

man ! 
A little month, or ere those shoes were old 
With which she followed my poor fathers body. 
Like Niobe all tears; why, she, even she — 
O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason 
Would have mourned longer, — married with my 

uncle. 
My father's brother, but no more lihe my father 
Than I to Hercules; within a month; 
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 
Had left the flushing of her galled eyes. 
She married. 0, most wicked speed to post 
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! 
It is not, nor can it come to good; 
But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue!" 

Laertes before his departure foi France gives 
his sister Ophelia some advice and v^arns her 
against the blandishments of Hamlet He says : 

^08 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

"Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,^ 
And Iceep you in the rear of your affection^ 
Out of the shot and danger of desire; 
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear. 
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near/' 

This innocent, beautiful girl gave this wise reply 
to her brother: 

''I shall the effect of this good lesson keep. 
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother 
Do not as some ungracious pastors do. 
Show me the steep and thorny way ta heaven. 
Whilst, nice a puffed and wrecTcless libertine. 
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads 
And rechs not his own read!" 

Then Polonins, the wise old father, comes in to 
hasten Laertes off to France, with this great ad- 
vice: 

''There, my blessing with thee! 
And these few precepts in thy memory 
LooTc thou character. Give thy thoflights no 

tongue, 
'Nor any unproportioned thought his act. 
Be thou familiar, but my no means vulgar. _ 
Those friends thou hast anc' iheir adoption tried. 
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel. 
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
Of each new hatched, uniledged comrade. Beware 
Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, 
Bear it that the opposed may beware of thee. 
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice; 

309 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Take each mans censure, hut reserve thy judg- 
ment. 
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy. 
But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy; 
For the apparel oft proclaims the man. 
And they in France of the best rank and statiodfi 
Are of a most select and generous chief in that. 
Neither a borrower nor a lender be; 
For loan oft loses both itself and friend. 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
This above all; to thine own self be true. 
And it must follow, as the night the day. 
Thou canst not then be false to any man!** 

Good advice is very fine. 

From those who think and make it; 
Only one in ninety-nine 

Will ever stop to take it! 

Hamlet and his friends, Horatio and Marcellus, 
go to tlie passing place of the Ghost at midnight, 
and there, to the amazement of Hamlet, he sees 
the apparition of his father, and exclaims : 

'^ Angels and ministers of grace defend us! 
Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned. 
Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from 

hell. 
Be thy intents wicked or charitable. 
Thou comest in such a questionable shape 
That I will speak to thee. Fll call thee Hamlet, 
King, father, royal Dane; 0, answer me! 
Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell 
Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, 

no 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Have hurst tJieir cerements; why thy sepulchre. 
Wherein we saw thee quietly inurned 
Hath opened his ponderous and marhle jaws. 
To cast thee up again. What may this mean. 
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel. 
Revisit thus the glimpses of the moon. 
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature 
So horridly to shake our disposition 
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 
Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we 
ddf 

The Ghost passes across the stage and beckons 
Hamlet to follow^ who frantically rushes after the 
apparition and says: 

"^Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak, Fll go no 
farther/^ 

Ghost utters in sepulchral voice: 

'"Mark me I 
I am thy father's spirit; 
Doomed for a certain term to walk the night. 
And for the day confined to fast in fires 
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature 
Are hurnt and purged away. But that I am for- 
bid 
To tell the secrets of my prison house, 
I could a tale unfold whose lightest words 
Wotdd harroiv up thy soul, freeze thy young blood. 
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their 

spheres, 
Thy knotted and confined locks to part 

211 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

And each particular hair to stand on end 

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. 

But this eternal blazon must not he 

To ears of flesh and hlood. List! listj list! 

If thou did'st ever thy dear father love, — 

'Tis given out that sleeping in my orchard 

A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Dertr 

marie 
Is hy a forged process of my death 
EanTcly abused; but Jcnow thou, noble youth. 
The serpent that did sting thy father's life 
Now wears his crown!'' 

Hamlet exclaims: 

''0 my prophetic soul! My uncle!" 

The Ghost then makes this remarkable speech: 

'Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast. 
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, 

wicTced wit and gifts, that have the power 
So to seduce! won to his shameful lust 

The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen; 
0, Hamlet, what a falling off was there! 
From me, whose love was of that dignity 
That it went hand in hand even with the vow 

1 made to her in marriage; and to decline 
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor 
To those of mine! 

But virtue, as it never will be moved. 
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven. 
So lust, though to a radiant angel linhed 
Will sate itself in a celestial bed 
And prey on garbage. 

21^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

But, soft! metJiinks I scent the morning air; 
Brief let me he. Sleeping within my orchard. 
My custom always of the afternoon. 
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole. 
With juice of cursed hehenon in a vial. 
And in the porches on my ears did pour 
The leperous distilment; whose effect 
Holds such an enmity with blood of man. 
That quicJc as quichsilver it courses through 
The natural gates and alleys of the body; 
And with a sudden vigour, it doth posset 
And curd, Wke eager droppings into milk. 
The thin and wholesome blood: So did it mine; 
And a most instant tetter barJced about. 
Most lazar-UTce, with vile and loathsome crust. 
All my smooth body. 
Thus was I sleeping, by a brother's hand. 
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatched; 
Gut off even in the blossoms of my sin. 
Unhoused, disappointed, unaneled; 
'No recJconing made, but sent to my account 
With all my imperfections on my head; 
O, horrible! most horrible! 
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not; 
Let not the royal bed of Denmarh be 
A couch for luxury and damned incest. 
But, howsoever, thou pursuest this act. 
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive 
Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven. 
And to those thorns thai in her bosom lodge. 
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once! 
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near. 
And begins to pale his ineffectual fire! 
Adieu! adieu! adieu! remember me!" 

213 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

As the Ghost ceased and passed off the stage a 
peculiar shivering cheer passed over the great au- 
dience, and revealed for the first time in London 
dramatic art, a supernatural being seemingly 
clothed in the habiliments of flesh, blood and bones, 
resurrected from the tomb. 

Do spirits revisit this world again 

When they're released from this body of pain. 

And do they inhabit a realm afar 

Beyond the bright sun and sparhling star ? 

King Claudius, his queen and Polonius were anx- 
ious to get at the real cause of Hamlet's lunacy, 
and send him away from the castle to prevent 
future trouble. The guilty conscience of the king 
daily feared detection. 

Hamlet brooded so intently upon the cruel mur- 
der of his father that he was constantly on the 
verge of insanity, devising plans to either slaughter 
himself or wreak a terrible vengeance upon his 
uncle and mother. 

Treading the halls of his ancestral palace he 
uttered this transcendent soliloquy that has puzzled 
the ages: 

""To be or not to be; that is the question; 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. 
Or to taJce arms against a sea of troubles. 
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep; 
No more; and by a sleep to say we end 
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation 

314 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Devoutly to he wished. To die, to sleep; 
To sleep, perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub; 
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come. 
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil. 
Must give us pause; there's the respect 
That malces calamity of so long life; 
For who would hear the whips and scorns of time. 
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's con- 
tumely. 
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay. 
The insolence of office, and the spurns — 
That patient merit of the unworthy taTces, 
When he himself might his quietus maTce 
With a hare hodhin? Who would fardels hear. 
To grunt and sweat under a weary life. 
But the dread of something after death 
The undiscovered country from whose hourn 
No traveler returns, puzzles the will. 
And malces us rather hear those ills we have 
Than Hy to others that we Tcnow not of? 
Thus conscience does maTce cowards of us all. 
And thus the native hue of resolution 
Is sicJclied o'er with the pale cast of thought. 
And enterprises of great pitch and moment 
With this regard their currents turns awry 
And lose the name of action!" 

Ophelia at the suggestion of her father and the 
other conspirators, comes in at this juncture and 
sounds Hamlet as to plighted love and gives back 
the gifts he gave her. 

Hamlet pretending to madness still talks double 
and asks Ophelia if she be honest, fair and beau- 
tiful. 

215 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

She says: "Could beauty, my lord, have better 
commerce than with beauty T' 

Hamlet replies: "Ay, truly, for the power of 
beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it 
is to a bawd, than the force of honesty can translate 
beauty into his likeness; this was sometime a para- 
dox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love 
you once." 

Ophelia says: "Indeed, my lord, you made me 
believe so." 

And then the fickle Hamlet says: "I loved you 
not," and with supercilious advice, exclaims: 

''Get thee to a nunnery! 
Why would' st thou he a breeder of sinners? 
I am myself indifferent honest; 
But yet I could accuse me of such things 
That it were better my mother had not borne me, 
I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; 
With more offenses at my bach 
Than I have thoughts to put them in; 
Imagination to give them shape. 
Or time to act them, in. 
What should such fellows as I do 
Crawling between heaven and earth? 
We are arrant hnaves all, believe none of us — 
Go thy ways to a nunnery ! 
If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for 

thy dowry, — 
Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow! 
Thou shalt not escape calumny! 
If thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; 
For wise men Jcnoiv well enough what monsters 

women mahe of them! 
Go! get thee to a nunnery!" 

216 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Hamlet thus plays the madman to the eye and 
mind of Ophelia, that she may report his lunacy; 
and believing her former lover deranged, after his 
exit utters this wail of grief: 

"0, ivliat a nohle mind is here overthrown! 
The courtiers, soldier s, scholar's eye, tongue, 

sword; 
The expectancy and rose of the fair state. 
The glass of fashion and the mould of form. 
The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! 
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched. 
That suched the honey of his mu^ic vows. 
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason. 
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; 
That unmatched form and feature of blown youth. 
Blasted with ecstacy: 0, woe is me. 
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see." 

The instruction of Hamlet to the players is the 
most conclusive evidence that William Shakspere 
was not only the greatest dramatic author, but an 
actor and orator of matchless mould. 

There was no character that his soul conceived 
in any of his plays, fool or philosopher, that he 
could not act better than any man in his com- 
pany. 

In the first rehearsal of his plays he usually read 
the lines to his men and gave them the cue and 
philosophy of the character to be enacted. 

A few days before the play of Hamlet I heard 
him deliver this speech for the edification of the 
whole troupe, that they might know how to render 
their lines in an effective and oratorical manner : 

217 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

'Speak the speech,, I pray you, as I pronounced 
It to you, trippingly on the tongue; 
But if you mouth it, as many of your 
Players do, I had as lief the town-crier, 
SpoJce my lines. Now do not saw the air tooi 
Much with your hand, thus; hut use all gently; 
For in the very torrent, tempest, and. 
As I may say, whirlwind of your passion. 
You must acquire and heget a temperance. 
That may give it smoothness. 0, it offends 
Me to the soul to hear a robustious 
Periwig-pated fellow, tear a passion 
To tatters, to very rags, to split the 
Ears of the groundlings, who for the most part 
Are capable of nothing, but inexplicable 
Dump-shows and noise, I would have such a fellow 
Whipped for overdoing Termagant; 
It out-herods Herod; pray you avoid it. 
Be not too tame neither, but let your own 
Discretion be your tutor; suit the action 
To the word, the word to the action; 
With this special observance, that you o'erstep 
Not the modesty of nature; for anything 
So overdone is from the purpose of playing. 
Whose end, both at the first and now, was and is. 
To hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; 
To show virtue her own feature, scorn her 
Own image, and the very age and body 
Of the time his form and pressure. 
Now this, overdone, or come tardy off. 
Though it mahe the unskilled laugh, cannot but 
Make the judicious grieve; the censure of 
The which one must in your allowance 
Overweigh a whole theatre of others. 

218 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

0^ there he players that I have seen play. 
And heard others praise^, and that highly. 
Not to speah it profanely, that neither 
Having the accent of Christians nor the 
Gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so* 
Strutted and bellowed, that I have thought 
Some of nature's journeymen had made men. 
And not made them well, they imitated 
Humanity so abominably T 

In all the troubles and vicissitudes of Hamlet's 
life, young Lord Horatio remained his unfaltering 
friend ; and this tribute to friendship is one of the 
best in Shakspere. Hamlet says: 

'^Horatio, thou art even as just a man 
As e'er my conversation coped withal. 
Nay, do not thinTc I flatter; 
For what advancement may I hope from thee. 
That no revenue hast but thy good spirits. 
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor 

be flattered? 
No, let the candied tongue licTc absurd pomp. 
And crooTc the pregnant hinges of the knee 
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou 

hear? 
Since my dear soul was mistress of its choice 
And could of men distinguish, her election 
Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been 
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing; 
A man that fortune's buffets and rewards 
Hast talcen with equal composure; and blest are 

those 

219 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Whose hlood and judgment are so well com^ 

mingled 
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger 
To sound what stop she pleases. Give me that 

man 
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart 
As I do theer 

In the dumb show murder play, before the King 
and Queen Shakspere puts these phrases in the 
mouths of the players and Hamlet: 

^'The great man down, you marTc his favorite Hies; 
The poor advanced maJces friends of enemies; 
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend; 
For who not needs, shall never lacTc a friend." 

"But what's that, your Majesty; 
And we that have free souls, it touches us not; 
Let the galled jade wince, our withers are un" 
wrung !" 

King Claudius frightened aii the mock play 
runs away, and Hamlet says to Horatio: 

"Why let the stricTcen deer go weep. 
The hart ungalled play; 
For some must watch, while some must sleep 
Thus runs the world away." 

"'Tis now the very witching time of night. 
When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes 
out 

»20 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Contagion to this world; now could I drinh hot 

blood. 
And do such hitter business as the day 
Would quaTce to looh on. Soft, now to my mother j 
I will speah daggers to her, but use none!" 

King Claudius the night before his death, after 
conspiring with Polonius for the exile of Hamlet 
utters this self -accusing, remorseful soliloquy: 

"0, my offense is rank, it smells to heaven; 
It hath the primal, eldest curse upon it — • 
A brother s murder. Pray can I not. 
Though inclination be as sharp as will; 
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent. 
And nice a man to double business bound, 
I stand in pause where I shall first begin. 
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand 
Were thicTcer than itself with brother s blood? 
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 
To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy 
But to confront the visage of offense ? 
And whafs in prayer but this tivofold force. 
To be forestalled ere we come to fall. 
Or pardoned being down? Then Til looh up; 
My fault is past. But 0, what form of prayer 
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder? 
That cannot be, since I am still possessed 
Of those effects for which I did the murder. 
My crown, mine own ambition and my queen. 
May one be pardoned and retain the offense ? 
In the corrupted currents of this world 
Offense's gilded hand may shove by justice. 
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Buys out the law; hut His not so above; 
There, is no shuffling^, there, the action lies 
In his true nature, and we ourselves compelled 
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults 
To give in evidence!" 

In the midnight interview of Hamlet with his 
mother, Polonius hides behind a curtain to spy 
upon, the words of the ^'^melancholy Dane/' and is 
killed by a sword thrust of Hamlet, who exclaims : 

''How now! a rat, dead for a ducat/* 

Then Hamlet holds his mother to the talk and 
pours these lines of liquid gall into her trembling 
ear and frightened heart: 

''LooJc here, upon this picture, and on this. 
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 
See what a grace was seated on this brow; 
Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself. 
An eye lilce Mars, to threaten and command; 
A station like the herald Mercury 
New'lighted on a heaven-hissing hill; 
A combination and a form indeed. 
Where every god did seem to set his seal 
To give the world assurance of a man; 
This was your husband. Looh you now. 
What follows: 

Here is your husband; lilce a mildewed ear. 
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? 
Gould you on this fair mountain leave to feed. 
And batten on this foul moor? 
Your husband; a murderer and a villain; 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe 
Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings; 
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule. 
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole 
And put it in his poclcet! 
A Tcing of shreds and patches!" 

King Claudius, alarmed at the death of Polonius 
and his own guilty state, conspires with Rosencrantz 
and Guildenstern to take Hamlet to England and 
get rid of him, saying: 

^'Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed abroad^ 
Delay it not; Fll have him hence to-night; 
Away! for everything is sealed and done 
That else leans on the affair; pray you, maJce 
haste r 

Hamlet before retiring thus bemoans his slow- 
ness in wreaking a just vengeance upon his mur- 
derer uncle: 

^'How all occasions do inform against me. 
And spur my dull revenge ! What is a man. 
If his chief good and marhet of his time 
Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. 
Sure, he that made us with such large discourse 
Looking before and after, gave us not 
That capability and god-lihe reason 
To rot in us unused. 
Rightly to be great 
Is not to stir without great argument; 
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw 
When honor's at the stake. Row stand I then, 

?33 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

That have a father Tcilled, a mother stained. 
Excitements of my reason and my blood. 
And let all sleep, while to my shame I see 
The imminent death of twenty thousand men. 
That for a fantasy and trick of fame 
Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot 
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause. 
Which is not tomb enough and continent 
To hide the slain? 0, from this time forth. 
My thoughts be bloody or nothing worth T 

The beautiful Ophelia becomes insane after her 
father's death, and wanders about the castle singing 
disjointed love songs and uttering musings. 

Queen Margaret says : 

"How now, Ophelia f 

She sings: 

"How should I your true love Tcnow 
From another one? 
By his cocMe hat and staff 
And his sandal shoon," 

The king asks: 

"How do you do, pretty ladyf 

She replies: 

"They say the owl was a banker's daughter; 
Lord, we know what we are, but know not what 
we may be'' 

224: 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Laertes returns from France and finds his sister 
insane from grief over the loss of her father, and 
viewing this innocent wreck parading palace halls, 
exclaims : 

"Dear Tnaid, hind sister^ sweet Ophelia! 
heavens! is it possible a young maid's wits 
Should he as mortal as an old man's lifef 

Ophelia unconsciously sings: 

"They tore him barefaced on the hier; 
Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny; 
And in his grave rained many a tear — 
Fare you well, my dove!'* 

Holding a spray of flowers in her hands she fit- 
fully plucks them and murmurs : 

"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; 
Pray you, love, remember; 
And there is pansies, that's for thoughts; 
There's fennel for you, and columbines; 
There's rue for you, and here's some for me; 
We may call it herb of grace on Sunday; 
0, you must wear your rue with a difference. 
There's a daisy; I would give you some violets — 
But they withered all when my father died!" 

Hamlet and his party in sailing for England 
encounter a war-like pirate ship, and in the fight 
and grapple Hamlet alone is taken prisoner and 
his keepers go to destruction. 

He suddenly appears at Elsinore, and goes to 

225 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

the churchyard, where a grave is being prepared 
for Ophelia, who was drowned in a garden stream 
in her mad ramblings. 

Hamlet converses philosophically with the grave 
diggers about the bones, skulls and greatness of a 
politician, courtier, lady, lawyer, tanner ; and when 
the skull of the old king's jester is thrown out of 
the grave after a sleep of twenty-three years, Ham- 
let, speaking to Horatio, says: 

^' Alas J poor Yorick, I Jcnew him, Horatio; 
A fellow of infinite jest, of most 
Excellent fancy, lie hath tome me 
On his 'bach a thousand times, and now 
Hoio abhorred in my imagination 
It is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung 
Those lips that I have Icissed, I Tcnow not 
How oft. Where be your gibes now, your gambols'^ 
Your songs? Your flashes of merriment. 
That were wont to set the table in a roar? 
Not one noiv, to mocTc your own grinning! 
Quite chop-fallen? Now get you to my lady's 

chamber. 
And tell her, let her paint an inch thiclc. 
To this favor she must come; 
Mahe her laugh at that!'* 

The funeral procession with the corpse of 
Ophelia now appears, Laertes, King, Queen, train, 
and priests attending. 

The priests tell Laertes that were it not for 
'^great command" his sister's body ^^should in 
ground unsanctified have lodged till the last trum- 
pet," because of alleged suicide. 

22S 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Laertes peremptorily says : 

''Lay her in the earth 
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh 
May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, 
A ministering angel shall my sister he 
When thou liest howling in perdition." 

Laertes and Hamlet, both, overpowered with fran- 
tic grief, leap into the new-made grave and struggle 
for precedence of affection, the former exclaiming : 

"Now pile your dust upon the quicTc and dead. 
Till of this Hat a mountain you have made 
To o'ertop old Pelion or the sTcyish head 
Of blue Olympus!" 

Hamlet, replying to the King, Queen and taer- 

tes, says: 

''I loved Ophelia; forty thousand brothers. 
Could not, with all their quantity of love 
Males up my sum; 

And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw 
Millions of acres on us. Oil our ground 
Singeing his pate against the burning zone 
Make Ossa lilce a wart!" 

Hamlet tells his friend, Horatio, liow on Ms 
voyage to England he discovered that King 
Clandins gave commission to his enemies to send 
his head to the block. Hamlet says: 

237 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

''Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well. 
When our deep plots do pall; and that should 

teach us 
There's a Divinity that shapes our ends. 
Rough-hew them how we will/* 

King Claudius seeing no other way to get rid of 
Hamlet, consults his secret courtiers and brews 
up the passion existing between Laertes and him- 
self, proposing that they fence with rapiers for a 
great prize, the King betting that in twelve passes 
of swords Laertes makes not three hits on Hamlet. 

The grand contest for excellence in sword-play 
comes off in the main hall of the palace, while the 
King, Queen, lords and courtiers await the entrance 
of Hamlet. 

The rapier point handed by the King to Laertes, 
was dipped in deadly poison, so that it but touch 
the flesh of Hamlet certain death prevailed, and 
even of the wine cups set on the table to quench 
the thirst of the artistic fencers, one was poisoned 
and intended for Hamlet's dissolution. 

Laertes was in the poison plot, and Hamlet felt 
in his soul that foul play was intended, but in the 
general scramble and conclusion he hoped to wipe 
off the score of his vengeance from the slate of royal 
iniquity and slaughter. 

Trumpet and cannon sound for beginning the 
sword contest. 

First passes favored Hamlet, and the King, 
grasping the poison wine cup, says : 

''Hamlet, this pearl is thine; 
Here's to thy health T (Offering him the cup.) 

^28 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Hamlet replies : 

'^Give Laertes the cup. 
Til play this hout first; set it hy a while." 

Hamlet makes another pass and touches Laertes, 
and the Queen grasps the poison cup in her excite- 
ment and drinks to her son. 

The King impulsively says : 

''Gertrude, do not drink T (Aside) ''It is the 
poisoned cup!*' 

The Queen, as Grod and Fate would have it, says 
stubbornly : 

''I will, my lord, I pray you pardon me!" 

In the third round Laertes wounds Hamlet with 
the poisoned-pointed rapier, and in the struggle 
Hamlet grasps Laertes' rapier and in turn wounds 
his antagonist. 

At this moment the Queen falls off her throne, 
and dying, says to Hamlet : 

''0, my dear Hamlet; the drinlc, the drinh; I 
am poisoned!" 

Laertes then falls, and Hamlet, seeing through 
the plot, exclaims: 

''O, villainy! Ho! let the door he locked; 
Treachery! seek it out!" 

22a 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Laertes makes the dying confession of his treach- 
ery: 

''It is here J Hamlet; Hamlet, thou art slain; 
No medicine in the world can do thee good. 
In thee there is not half an hour of life; 
The treacherous instrument is in thy hand. 
Undated and envenomed; the foul practice 
Hath turned itself on me, lo, here I lie. 
Never to rise again; thy mother's poisoned; 
I can no more; the King, the King is to blame T 

Then Hamlet, as a lion rushing on his prey, ex- 
claims ; 

'^The point envenomed too. 
Then, venom, to thy worTc," 
(Stabs the King.) 

The King falls and says : ^^I am but hnrt^^ ; while 
Hamlet grasps the poisoned cnp of wine and dashes 
it down the throat of the guilty monster, exclaim- 
ing: 

"Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Bane, 
DrinTc off this potion: is thy union here? — 
Follow my mother T (King dies.) 

Laertes' last words: 

"The King is justly served; 
Exchange forgiveness with me, nohle Hamlet" 

230 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Hamlet replies : 

"Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. 
I am dead, Horatio. Wretched Queen, adieu! 
You that look pale and tremble at this chance. 
That are hut mutes or audience to this act. 
Had I hut time, — as this fell sergeant — Death, 
Is strict in his arrest — 0, I could tell you — 
But let it he. Horatio, I am dead! 
Thou livest; report me and my cause aright 
To the unsatisfied. 
0, 1 die, Horatio; 

The potent poison quite overcrows my spirit, 
I cannot live to hear the news from England; 
But I do prophesy the election lights 
On Fortinhras; he has my dying voice; 
So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less. 
Which have solicited. The rest is silence!'* (Dies.) 

And then to close the scene of slaughter, the 
noble and faithful Horatio, bending over the body 
of his princely friend, exclaims: 

'^Now cracks a nohle heart; Good night, sweet 

prince. 
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!'* 

Such tumultuous applause I never heard in a 
theatre, and shouts for "The Ghost" and "Hamlet" 
prevailed until William and Burbage came from 
behind the curtain and made a triple bow to the 
audience as the clock in the tower of Saint Paul 
struck the midnight hour. 

!S31 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The lesson in great Hamlet taught. 
Is that a throne is dearly bought 
By lawless love and Moody deeds. 
Which fester like corrupted deeds, 
And smell to heaven with poison breath 
Involving all in certain death. 
For fraud and murder can't be hid 
8ince Eve and Cain did what they did 
And left us rmked through the world, 
Lihe meteors in midnight hurled. 
To darTcle in this trackless sphere. 
Not knowing what we're doing here! 



2Z2 



Shakspej?e: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER XVII. 

DEATH OF QUEEN- ELIZABETH. CORONATION OP 
KING JAMES. 

^^All that lives must die. 
Passing through nature to eternity" 

''Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown/* 

''What have Icings that privates have not too, - 
'Save ceremony f 

The N"ew Tear of sixteen hundred and three 
brought no consolation or happiness to Queen 
Elizabeth. Her reign of forty-four years had been 
bloody, but patriotic; and while she had long 
since passed the noonday of her glory, her sunset 
of life hastened to its setting with a fevered brain 
and tortured heart, to think that she had not one 
real friend living, but surrounded by cunning 
courtiers, who were already manipulating for the 
favor and patronage of King James. 

Lilce a blasted pine on a mountain peak. 
She moaned and sighed every day and weeTc; 
Awaiting the deadly, stormy gust 
That laid her low in the crumbling dust, 

^33 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

To amuse her lingering hours of grief Lord 
Cecil desired the Shakspere Company to give its 
new version of "Love's Labor's Lost" before the 
Queen in the grand reception hall at Eichmond. 

Burbage went to the castle and made all the 
preliminary preparations for the play, and on the 
night of the second of February, 1603, the fan- 
tastic love play was given for the amusement of 
the Virgin Queen. She sat in regal solitude, and 
with mock laughter tried to enjoy the mimic show. 

The royal audience was great in rank, beauty, 
wealth and intellect, yet through the various scenes 
of the light-hearted drama, Elizabeth only swung 
her head, muttered and sighed, while her courtiers 
evinced great amusement at the predicament of the 
various lovers in the play. Nothing can minister 
to a mind diseased. 

The Queen professed great disappointment at the 
absence of Shakspere from the performance — "on 
account of sickness," as Burbage told her Eoyal 
Highness. But William and myself remained at 
our rooms at Temple Bar that evening working 
on the first draughts of "Macbeth" to catch the 
praise and patronage of King James, the Scotch- 
Englishman. 

Since the execution of Essex and imprisonment 
of Southai?7pton Shakspere never said a word in 
praise of Elizabeth, and when he heard of her 
death on the 26th of March, 1603, he betrayed 
no feeling of grief, but on the contrary, expressed 
delight that the way was now clear for the release 
of Southampton and other victims of Elizabeth 
from the Tower. 

Several weeks before her death Elizabeth was 

234 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

afflicted with a choking sensation, and the ghosts 
of her murdered sister — Mary, Queen of Scots, 
and her former lover, the beheaded Earl of Essex, 
appeared nightly. 

Cecil asked her a few days before she died how 
she felt, when she muttered, ^'My lord, I am tied 
"with a chain of iron about my neck/' 

Thus a cruel, bloody conscience sat like a fiend 
over her dying sighs and groans, and though sur- 
rounded with the wealth and glor}^ of the world, 
the Virgin Queen stepped into eternity with only 
the memory of a successful t}Tant to light her 
to the Pluto realms of her father. King Henry 
the Eighth ! 

Her funeral procession and burial in West- 
minster Abbey was the grandest exhibition of 
royal pomp and magnificence. The whole popula- 
tion seemed to fill all the alleys, streets and parks 
of the great city, with the army and hslyj leading 
the funeral cortege, while the great bells from 
steeple, tower and temple rang out their periodical 
wail of sonorous sounds for twent\^-four hours. 

The body of Elizabeth had been scarcely cold 
in death when Lord Cecil and the Eoyal Council 
proclaimed James of Scotland, King of England, 
Ireland, Scotland and France, tumbling over each 
other in a mad race to throw themselves prostrate 
before the rising sun, forgetting in a day the 
honors and benefactions showered upon them for 
forty years by their late mistress. 

And thus we see from age to age. 
The greed of man on every page; 
No matter whether young or old. 
His strife in life, is search for gold! 

235 



Shaksperc: Personal Recollections 

King James left Edinburgh on the 5th of April 
with a royal escort for London, and by easy stage 
from town to town and castle to castle, made a 
triumphal march to London, where he arrived on 
the 7th of May, 1603, putting up at the Whitehall 
Palace. The lords of the realm and millions of 
faithful subjects gave James their loyal adhesion 
and support, lauding him to the skies as monarch 
of the realm and defender of the Faith. Hope had 
no thorns in her crown. 

Protestants and Catholics alike, on their first 
rush of spontaneous patriotism, made a bid for the 
patronage of the new king, who, although reared a 
Protestant, was known to have sjrtnpathy for cer- 
tain Catholic lords, who tried to save his mother — 
Mary, Queen of Scots, from the fatal block. James 
never forgave Elizabeth for the murder of his 
mother, and in his inmost heart despised his pre- 
decessor. 

King James after his coronation and triumphal 
entry into London on the 15th of March, 1604, 
ordered a partial jail delivery, releasing hundreds 
of prisoners in Scotland, Ireland and England, ex- 
empting only highway and house robbers, mur- 
derers, and those who had committed overt acts of 
treason against the crown. 

Many political prisoners had been immured in 
the Tower and other state prisons on trivial or 
trumped up charges, preferred by jealous courtiers 
on personal or religious grounds. 

James was very friendly to the dramatic pro- 
fession, and granted a charter to the Shakspere 
Company to play at the Blackfriars, Griobe, Prince, 
Fortune and Curtain theatres. 

236 



Shakspere: iPersonal Recollections 

In the coronation procession nine of the "Kings 
Company" appeared dressed out in fantastic array, 
wearing four yards and a half each of silk-scarlet 
cloth. 

The nine chief actors thus honored by the King 
were William Shakspere, Augustine Phillips, 
Laurence Fletcher, John Hemmings, William Sley, 
Robert Armyn, Henry Condell, Eichard Cowley 
and Eichard Burbage. 

King James sent for Shakspere and Burbage 
and told them to be ever in readiness r.i the King's 
servants to perform at any of the palaces that he 
might entertain domestic or foreign guests, and 
assured them that the puritanical policy that had 
hounded them in the past should not prevail dur- 
ing his reign, believing that the stage, properly 
managed, was as great an educator for the people 
as the church. 

When William told me of this interview with 
the King I expressed great delight, with the other 
literary bohemians that now there sat on the throne 
of old Albion, a patron of poetry, painting, music 
and sculpture. 

The Church of Eome and the Church of Eng- 
land had been battling for nearly a hundred years 
in Britain for the mastery ; and although the devo- 
tees of Luther's Eeformation had cracked the creed 
of popes and princes, there was a general demand 
for a new version and translation of the Bible, cut- 
ting out the Catholicism of the old book and ex- 
purgating the vulsrarity and superstition ena^afted 
on the ^^ord of God'' by the apostles and bishops 
of the first, second and third centuries, after Christ 
had been crucified for the sins of all mankind. 

^37 



Shakspere: Persanal Recollections 

Curious kind of celestial justice, to kill any man 
for my sins and crimes ? I prefer to suffer for my 
own sins and not fall back on a "scapegoat" to 
carry them off into the wilderness. 

On the first of September, 1604, a great religious 
conclave was held at Hampton Court by the estab- 
lished church and the Puritans, and there it was 
determined to make a new, revised and complete 
edition of the Bible, by the royal authority of King 
James. 

On the first of May, 1607, forty-seven of the most 
learned men of the British realm assembled in three 
parties at Oxford, Cambridge and Westminster to 
make a new Bible for the guidance of mankind. 
Hebrew, Greek and Latin scholars made up the 
great conclave; and after four years of detailed 
labor the King James edition of the Bible was 
published to the world, cutting loose forever from 
the power of Eome. 

Although the "Word of God" has been revised 
several times since by man there are yet a large 
number of sentences and verses in the Old and New 
Testament that might be expurgated in the interest 
of decency, reason and science. 

This electric age is too rapid and wise to gulp 
down the obsolete doctrine of ancient fanaticism, 
and the preachers of to-day are painfully alarmed 
at the decreasing number of pewholders and pat- 
rons, who once listened to their rigmarole plati- 
tudes or eloquent dissertations on the power and 
location of an unknown God. 

On Christmas Eve, 1607, the "King's Players,^' 
with Shakspere and Burbage in the respective roles 
of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, produced that great 

238 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

historical play at the grand reception room of 
Whitehall, in the presence of King James and the 
nobles of his court, snrroTinded by the ministers and 
diplomats from all the civilized nations of the 
world. 

I never saw a grander audience, interspersed with 
the most beautiful ladies of the world, who shone 
in their jewels and diamonds like a field of varie- 
gated wild flowers, besprinkled with the morning 
dew. 

The witches in the play seemed to startle tha 
King, and more than ever convince him that these 
inhabitants of earth and air were all of a reality, 
and should be destroyed wherever found, believing 
that they held the destiny of man in the caldron 
of their incantations. 

^'Come, come, you spirits 
That tend on mortal thoughts^ unsex me here; 
And fill me from the crown to the toe, top full 
Of direst cruelty I Mahe thick my blood. 
Stop up the access and passage to remorse; 
That no compunctious visitings of nature 
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
The effect and it! Come to my woman s breasts. 
And take my milk for gall, you murdering min- 
isters. 
Wherever in your sightless substances 
You wait on nature's mischief; come, thick night , 
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell! 
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes; 
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark!'' 

This speech of the devilish Lady Macbeth made 

239 



Shaksperei Personal Recollections 

a deep impression on the audience, and caused the 
King to squirm in his throne chair at the contem- 
plation of the murder of Duncan, but when Wil- 
liam entered as Macbeth and rendered the following 
speech James wished himself a million miles away, 
and yet applauded to the echo the murdering 
thoughts of the Scottish chieftain: 

*'If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well 
It were done quicMy. If the assassination 
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch. 
With his surcease, success; that hut this blow 
Might he the he-all and the end-all here. 
But here, upon this hanh and shoal of time, — 
We'd jump the life to come; hut, in these cases 
We still have judgment here; that we hut teach 
Bloody instructions, which heing taught, return 
To plague the inventor. This evenhanded justice 
Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice. 
To our own lips. He's here in douhle trust; 
First as I am his Tcinsman and his subject. 
Strong both against the deed; then, as his host. 
Who shoiuld against his murderer shut the door. 
Not hear the knife himself. Besides, this Duncan 
Hath horn his faculties so meelc, hath been 
So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
Will plead lihe angels, trumpet-tongued, against 
The deep damnation of his taking off; 
And pity, like a naked new-horn babe. 
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed 
Upon the sightless coursers of the air. 
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye. 
That tears shall drown the wind; I have no spur 
To prick the sides of my intent, but only 

240 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Vaulting ambition, ivhicli overleaps itself. 
And falls on the other T 

Still brooding on the murder of Duncan, Mac- 
beth says: 

'"'/s this a dagger which I see before mej, 
The handle towards my hand? Come, let me 

clutch thee; 
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 
To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but 
A dagger of the mind; a false creation. 
Proceeding from the heat oppressed brain? 
I see thee yet in form as palpable 
As this which now I draw. 
Thou marshaVst me the way that I was going; 
And such an instrument I was to use. 
Mine eyes are made the fools of the other senses. 
Or else ivorth all the Test; I see thee still; 
And on thy blade and handle, gouts of blood. 
Which teas not so before, there^s no such thing; 
It is the bloody business, which informs 
Thus to mine eyes, now o'er the one-half world 
Nature seems dead, and wiched dreams abuse 
The curtained sleeper; now witchcraft celebrates 
Pale Hecate's offerings, and withered murder 
Alarmed by his sentinel, the wolf. 
Whose howVs his watch, thus with his stealthy 

pace 
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his de- 
sign 
Moves nice a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth 
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 

241 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The very stones prate of my whereabout^ 
And tahe the present horror from the time. 
Which now suits with it. While I threat, he lives. 
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives; 
I go and it is done; the bell invites me. 
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a Icnell 
That summons thee to, heaven or to hell!'' 

After the murder of Duncan, Lady Macbeth, is 
constantly haunted with the ghost of her victim, 
and in midnight hours, sick at soul, walks in her 
sleep, talking of her bloody deed : 

''Out damned spot! out I say! 
Here's the smell of the blood still; 
All the perfumes of Arabia 
Will not sweeten this little hand!'' 

And then retiring to her purple couch, amidst 
the cries of her waiting women, she dies with insane 
groans echoing through her castle halls. 

Macbeth, the pliant, cowardly, ambitious tool of 
his wicked wife, is at last surrounded by Macduff 
and his soldiers, and informed that his lady is dead. 

And then soliloquizing on time and life, he 
utters these philosophic phrases: 

''She should have died hereafter; 
There would have been a time for such a word; 
To-morrow ; and to-morrow, and to-morrow 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day. 
To the last syllable of recorded time; 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! 

24:2 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Life's hut a walking shadow; a poor player^, 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage. 
And then is heard no more. It is a tale. 
Told hy an idiot, full of sound and fury — 
Signifying nothing r 

And then, in the forest in front of the castle 
Macbeth is at last brought to bay and killed by 
Macduff; but the murderer of Duncan, brave to 
the last, exclaims: 

"Yet I will try the last; before my body 
I throw my warlike shield; lay on, Macduff, 
And damned he him that first cries. Sold, 
enough r 

A whirlwind of applause echoed through the 
royal halls at the conclusion of the great Scotch his- 
torical drama, and Shakspere was loudly called be- 
fore the footlights, making a general bow to the 
audience, and paying deep, low courtesy to the 
King, who beckoned him to the throne chair, and 
placed about his neck a heavy golden chain with a 
miniature of His Majesty attached. William was 
glorified. 

"Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
With most miraculous organ T 



^m 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

SHAZSPERE AS MONOLOGIST. KING JAMES. 

"He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause," 

"The hing -becoming graces 
Are justice, verity, temperance, stahleness. 
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness. 
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude/' 

Shakspere became a prime favorite of King 
James, and occasionally he entertained the Bard at 
Whitehall Palace, introducing him to the bishops, 
cardinals and lords, who were interested in the 
revision of the Bible. They were astonished at the 
detailed knowledge of Shakspere, touching the 
"Word of God;" and when he entered into a dis- 
sertation of the Hebrew, Greek and Latin philos- 
ophers and "divines" who concocted the history of 
the ancients, they marveled at his native erudition. 

These modern preachers had been educated and 
empurpled in the classical ruts of ancient super- 
stitious divinity, while William communed with 
immediate nature, and taught lessons of virtue and 
vice on the dramatic stage that impresses the rush- 
ing world, far more than dictatorial dogmas or 
pulpit platitudes. 

244. 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Shakspere was a constant searcher of all religious 
bibles^ and particularly pondered on the Christian 
story of the creation, prophecies, crucifixion and 
revelation. Paganism was the advanced guard of 
Christianity ! 

Monks, priests, preachers, bishops, cardinals, 
popes, princes, kings, emperors and czars had ex- 
ercised their minds and hands as commentators on 
the old philosophy of an unknown God; and Wil- 
liam saw no reason why he should not extract from 
or paraphrase the best logical phrases and sentences 
of the Bible. 

His sonnets and plays are filled with the hidden 
meaning of the scriptures, and those who read 
closely and delve deeply into the works of the Bard 
of Avon will need no better moral teacher. His 
axioms and epigrams are used to-day as the pro- 
verbial philosophy of practical life, and the whole 
world is indebted to the sons of a carpenter and a 
butcher for the greatest pleasure and philosophy 
that has ever been enunciated on the globe ! 

The years 1611, 1612 and 1613 found William 
at the pinnacle of his dramatic glory, and like a 
ripe philosopher he finished his most thoughtful 
plays, ^Timon of Athens," "A Winter's Tale," 
^^ Antony and Cleopatra," "Pericles," "Cymbe- 
line," "Henry the Eighth," and his cap sheaf in 
the grain field of thought, "The Tempest." 

The constant intellectual labor of Shakspere be- 
gan to tell on his body, but his mind like a slum^ 
bering volcano, emitted flashes of heat and light, 
irradiating the midnight of Kterary mediocrity 
and gilding his declining days with golden flashes 
of fame and fortune. 

345 



Shakspere; Personal Recollections 

He sold his interest in the Blackfriars and Globe 
theatres, and purchased property in London and 
Stratford, making ever}^ preparation as a wise and 
thrifty man for himself and his children and fam- 
ily. William ever kept an eye on the glint and 
glory of gold, and while his bohemian theatrical 
companions were squandering their shillings at 
midnight taverns with ^^elles and beanx" he "put 
money in his purse/^ and kept it there. 

Gold is power everywhere; 
Best of friends in toil and care; 
And it surely will outwear 
Royal purple here or there! 

King James, in searching for an alliance to 
strengthen his throne by a marriage with his beau- 
tiful and brainy daughter, Elizabeth, finally hit 
upon the Elector Frederick, Count Palatine of 
Germany, and in the spring of 1613 all the loyal 
nobility of England were delighted that a matri- 
monial alliance had been made with a Protestant 
prince. 

While King James lent his official power to the 
Protestant religion and aided the Reformation in 
its rapid encroachments upon the papal power of 
Eome, he socially and clandestinely gave ear to the 
priests, bishops and cardinals of the Catholic 
church. 

The ceremonials incident to the marriage of 
Frederick and Elizabeth were splendid in the songs, 
dances, masques, parades, fireworks, and dramatic 
entertainments at Whitehall. 

A dozen of the most appropriate plays of Shak- 

24^ 






1348 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

spere were enacted before the nobility of the realm ; 
and the diplomatic corps from foreign lands were 
greatly charmed by the magnificence of the theatri- 
cal displays. 

The King spent one hundred thousand dollars in 
the palace and London festivities of the marriage 
of his beautiful daughter, and he secretly pawned 
his word and jewels to secure the ready cash. 

As an intellectual climax to the splendid, royal 
nuptials, King James invited to the wedding ban- 
quet three thousand of the most noted men and 
women of the world and informed his guests that 
at the conclusion of the feast the most wonderful 
dramatic artist of the age — ^William Shakspere, 
would recite in monologue from his own plays 
rare bits of philosophic eloquence. 

The benevolent reader will be glad to know and 
see that I have carefully preserved the following 
autographic note of His Majesty Kang James, in- 
viting William to the wedding banquet : 

^^HiTEHALL, Feb. 14th, 1613. 
"To William Shakspere, 

"Our Eoyal Dramatic Poet. 
"Great Sir: You will appear this evening at 
seven o^clock, at Whitehall, to entertain by mono- 
logue, at nuptial banquet, three thousand guests. 

"James, Eex.^^ 

The Archbishop of Canterbury tied the nuptial 
knot. The bride and groom, arrayed in white satin 
and German purple, respectively, looked magnifi- 
cent as they knelt at the palace altar to receive the 
final blessing of the Episcopal Church amid the 
glorious greetings of wealth and power. 

H9 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Fourteen salutes from the royal artillery in 
honor of Frederick and Elizabeth and St. Yalen- 
tine's Day, echoed from the heights of Whitehall, 
and carrier pigeons with love notes were sent flying 
over the temples, churches and towers of London 
to notify all loyal subjects that the throne of old 
Albion had been strengthened by an infusion of 
Germanic blood. 

Promptly at seven o'clock St. Valentine's even- 
ing, Eichard Burbage, Ben Jonson, Shakspere and 
myself drove up in our festooned carriage to the 
palace portals of Whitehall, and were ushered into 
the presence of the great assembly doing honor to 
the royal bride and groom, Frederick and Elizabeth. 

The King sat on a throne chair at the head of the 
banquet board, with his daughter and son-in-law 
on his left, while the Queen sat on his right. 

The other royal guests were seated according to 
their ancestral rank, while our dramatic quartette 
occupied a special table, William at the head on 
the right of the King and Queen, elevated as an 
improvised stage, with Shakspere, the most intel- 
lectual man of the world, ''the observed of all 
observers !" 

The play of knife and fork, laugh and jest, 
toast and talk lasted for two hours, and then as the 
foam on the brim of the beakers began to sparkle, 
the King, in his royal robes arose, and said : 

''My loyal subjects, health and prosperity to 
Great Britain and Germany, and love and truth 
for Frederick and Elizabeth.'^ 

The three thousand guests standing responded 
with a storm of cheers, and then the King re- 
marked : 

250 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

"We are honored to-night by the presence of 
William Shakspere, our most loyal and intellectual 
subject, who will now address you in logic and 
philosophy from his own matchless plays." 

(Lord Bacon looked as if he wanted to crawl 
under the table at the King's compliment to the 
Bard of Avon.) 

Shakspere arose, dressed in a dark purple suit, 
knee breeches and short sword by his side, bowed 
majestically, and for two hours entranced the royal 
assembly with these eloquent pen pictures of hu- 
manity : 

My good friends; 

ril skip across the fields of thought 
And pluck for you the sweetest Howers^ 
That I have from Dame Nature caught 
To cheer the lingering, leaden hours. 
While vice and virtue side hy side 
Go hand in hand adown the years. 
Virtue alone, remains the bride 
To banish all our falling tears; 
And here to-night like stars above 
These flowers of beauty blush and bloom — 
Commanding honest human love, — 
Immortal o'er the voiceless tomb I 

Othello thus defends himself against the charge 
of bewitching Desdemona: 

"Most potent, grave and reverend signiors. 
My very noble and approved good masters. 
That I have taken away this old mans daughter. 
It is most true; true, I have married her; 

251 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The very head and front of my offending 
Hath this extent^ no more. Rude am I in speech. 
And little blessed with the set phrase of speech; 
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith. 
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used 
Their dearest action in the tented field; 
And little of this great ivorld can I speah. 
More than pertains to feats of hroil and battle; 
And therefore little shall I grace my cause 
In speaTcing for myself; yet, by your gracious 

patience 
I will a round unvarnished tale deliver 
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what 

charms. 
What conjuration, and what mighty magic, 
(For such proceeding I am charged withal) 
I won his daughter with!'' 

'Her father loved me, oft invited me; 
Still questioned me the story of my life. 
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes 
That I have passed. 

I ran it through, even from my boyish days. 
To the very moment that he bade me tell it. 
Wherein I spoTce of most disastrous chances 
Of moving accidents, by flood and field; 
Of hair-breadth 'scapes, the imminent deadly 

breach; 
Of being tahen by the insolent foe. 
And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence 
And demeanor in my travel's history; 
Wherein of caverns vast and deserts idle. 
Bough quarries, roclcs and hills whose heads touch 

heaven. 



Shakspere : Personal Recollections 

It was my hint to speak, such was the process 
And of the cannibals that each other eat. 
The anthropophagi, and men whose heads 
Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things 

to hear 
Would Desdemona seriovMy incline; 
But still the house affairs would draw her thence; 
Which ever as she could with haste despatch. 
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
Devour up my discourse; which I observing 
TooTc once a pliant hour; and found good means 
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart. 
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate 
Whereof by parcels she had something heard. 
But not intentively ; I did consent; 
And often did beguile her of her tears. 
When I did speah of some distressful stroke 
That my youth suffered. My story being done 
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs; 
She swore — in faith, 'twas strange, Htvas passing 

strange; 
'Twos pitiful; 'twas wondrous pitiful; 
She wished she had not heard it; yet she wished. 
That heaven had made her such a man, she 

thanked me. 
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, 
I should but teach him how to tell my story. 
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I 

spake; 
She loved me for the dangers I had passed; 
And I loved her that she did pity them. 
This only is the witchcraft I have used. 
Here comes the lady, let her witness it!' 



»53 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Timon of Athens, a wealthy, spendthrift lord, 
becomes bankrupt by his generous entertainment 
of friends, but maddened by their ingratitude, re- 
tires to a forest cave by the sea, giving this parting 
curse to the people of Athens, and later scattering 
gold among a band of thieves. Hear the self -ruined 
epicure : 

"Let me looTc hack upon thee, thou wall 
That girdlest in those wolves! Dive in the earth. 
And fence not Athens! Matrons turn inconti^ 

nent ! 
Obedience fail in children! Slaves and fools, 
PlucTc the grave, wrinTcled senate from the bench 
And minister in their steads! To general filths 
Convert of the instant, green virginity! 
Do it in your parent's yes! Bankrupts, hold fast; 
Rather than render back, out with your knives. 
And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants 

steal ! 
Large-handed robbers your grave masters are; 
And kill by law! maid, to thy master's bed; 
Thy mistress is of the brothel! son of sixteen. 
Pluck the lined crutch from the old, limping 

sire; 
With it beat out his brains! piety, and fear 
Religion to the Gods, peace, justice, truth. 
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighborhood. 
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades 
Decrees, observances, customs and laws. 
Decline to your confounding contraries. 
And yet confusion live! Plagues incident to 

men. 
Your potent and infectious fevers heap 

254: 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica. 
Cripple our senators, that their limhs may halt 
As lamely as their manners! lust and liberty 
Creep in the minds and marrows of your youth; 
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive. 
And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains. 
Sow all the Athenian blossoms; and their crop 
Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath; 
That their society, as their friendship, may 
Be merely poison! Nothing Til bear from thee, 
But nakedness, thou detestable town! 

You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con. 
That you are thieves professed; that you work not 
In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft 
In legal professions. Rascal thieves; 
Here's gold; go, suck the subtle blood of the 

grape. 
Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth 
And so 'scape hanging; trust not the physician; 
His antidotes are poison, and he slays 
More than you rob; take wealth and lives tO' 

gether; 
Do villainy, do, since you profess to do it. 
Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery; 
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction 
Bobs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief. 
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun; 
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surges resolves 
The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief. 
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen 
From general excrement; each thing's a thief; 
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough 

power 

%66 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Have unchecked theft! Love not yourselves; 
away — 

Rol) one another! There's more gold; cut- 
throats; 

All that you meet are thieves! To Athens, go, 

Breah open shops! Nothing can you steal 

But thieves do lose it!'' 

Jaques, in the forest of Arden, discourses to the 
exiled Duke of the fools of fortune, and the nature 
of man. 

''^A fool, a fool! — I met a fool in the forest 
A motley fool; — a miserable world! 
As I do live hy food, I met a fool; 
Who laid him down and hashed him in the sun. 
And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms. 
In good set terms, — and yet a motley fool. 
Good morrow, fool, quoth I No, sir, quoth he. 
Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me for- 
tune; 
And then he drew a dial from his poTce; 
And loolcing on it with laclc-luster eye 
Says very wisely: It is ten o'cloclc; 
Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags; 
'Tis hut an hour ago since it was nine; 
And after an hour more, 'twill he eleven; 
And so from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. 
And then from hour to hour, we rot and roi. 
And thereby hangs a tale! When I did hear 
The motley fool thus moral on the time. 
My lungs began to crow lihe chanticleer. 
That fools should be so deep contemplative; 
And I did laugh sans intermission, 

S56 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

An hour hy his dial nolle fool! 

A worthy fool! Motley is the only wear! 

''All the world's a stage. 
And all the men and women merely players; 
They have their exits, and their entrances; 
And one man in his time plays many parts. 
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant. 
Mewling and pewhing in the nurse's arms; 
And then the whining school hoy, with his 

satchel. 
And shining, morning face, creeping like a snail 
Umvilling to school; and then the lover. 
Sighing lihe furnace, with a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow; then a soldier; 
Full of strange oaths and bearded lihe the pard. 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even in the cannons mouth; and then the jus- 

tire * 
In fair, round belly, with good capon lined. 
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut. 
Full of wise saws and modern instances. 
And so, he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon; _ 
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side; 
His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank; and his big, manly voice. 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound; Last scene of all 
That ends this strange, eventful history 
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion; 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every- 
thing !" 

^57 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

In "Measure for Measure" the brave Duke, the 
pure Isabella and cowardly Claudio discourse thus 
on death: 

*'Be absolute for death; either death or life. 
Shall thereby be sweeter. Reason thus with 

life, — 
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing 
But none but fools would Tceep; a breath thou 

art, 
(Servile to all the sTciey influences) 
That dost this habitation, where thou Tceepest, 
Hourly afflict; merely, thou art death's fool; 
For him thou lab or est by thy Mght to shun. 
And yet run'st toward him still; Thou art not 

noble; 
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st 
Are nursed by baseness: Thou art by no means 

valiant; 
For thou dost fear the soft and tender forJc 
Of a poor worm! Thy best of rest is sleep. 
And that thou oft provo¥st; yet grossly fear'st 
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not 

thyself; 
For thou exisfst on many thousand grains 
That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not; 
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get; 
And what thou hast forgetfst; Thou art not 

certain 
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects. 
After the moon. If thou art rich, thou art poor; 
For, liJce an ass, whose baclc with ingots bows. 
Thou bearst thy heavy riches hut a journey. 



2&S 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

And Death unloads thee! Friend hast thou 

none; 
For thine own towels^ which do call thee sire 
The mere effusion of thy proper loins. 
Do curse the gout, leprosy, and the rheum 
For ending thee no sooner; Thou hast nor youth, 

nor age. 
But, as it were, an after-dinner s sleep. 
Dreaming on both; For all thy blessed youth 
Becomes as aged, and doth heg the alms 
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich 
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor 

beauty 
To mahe thy riches pleasant!'' 

'0, I do fear thy courage, Claudio; and I qualce 
Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain. 
And six or seven winters more respect 
Than a perpetual honor. Darst thou die? 
The sense of death is most in apprehension; 
And the poor beetle that we tread upon. 
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great 
As when a giant dies! 
Ay, Isabella, but to die, and go we know not 

where; 
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; 
This sensible, warm motion to become 
A hneaded clod; and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery fioods, or to reside 
In thrilling regions of thicTc-ribbed ice; 
To be imprisoned in the viewless winds. 
And blown with restless violence round about 
The pendant world; or to be worse than worst 
Of those, that lawless and Uncertain thoughts 

259 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Imagine howling! 'Tis too horrible! 
The weariest and most loathed worldly life 
That age, ache, penury and imprisonment 
Can lay on nature, is a paradise 
To what we fear of death!'* 

King Henry the Fourth, on his deathbed thus 
bitterly rebukes Prince Hal for his heartless haste 
in taking the crown before the last breath leaves 
his father: 

''Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought; 
I stay too long hy thee, I weary thee. 
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair. 
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honors 
Before thy hour he ripe? 0, foolish youth! 
Thou seelcst the greatness that will overwhelm 

thee. 
Stay hut a little; for my cloud of dignity 
Is held from falling with so weaTc a mind 
That it will quickly drop; my day is dim. 
Thou hast stolen that, which after some few 

hours. 
Were thine without offense; and at my death. 
Thou hast sealed up my expectation; 
Thou life did manifest, thou lov'st me not. 
And thou wilt have me die assured of it. 
Thou hidfst a thousand daggers in thy thoughts; 
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart. 
To stab at half an hour of my life. 
What! can'st thou not forbear me half an hour? 
Then get thee gone; and dig my grave thyself; 
And hid the merry bells ring to thine ear; 
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Let all the tears that should hedew my hearse 
Be drops of halm, to sanctify thy head; 
Only compound me with begotten dust; 
Give that which gave thee life, unto the worms; 
Pluch down my officers, break my decrees; 
For now a time is come to mode at form. 
Harry the Fifth is crowned; up, vanity! 
Down royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence! 
And to the English Court assemble now. 
From every region, apes of idleness! 
Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum; 
Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance. 
Bevel the night; rob, murder and commit 
The oldest sins, the newest kind of ways! 
Be happy, he will trouble you no more; 
England shall double gild his treble guilt; 
For the Fifth Harry from curbed license plucks 
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent. 
0, poor Kingdom, sick with civil blows! 
When that my care could not withhold thy riots 
What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care? 
0, thou wilt be a wilderness again. 
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!'' 

King Lear, the generous old monarcli of 
Britain, in a spasm of parental love, bequeathes 
his dominion to his two daughters, Goneril and 
Regan, and gave nothing to the beautiful Cor- 
delia. Hear the old man rave at his ungrateful 
daughters and the corrupt world: 

'^^Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend. 
More hideous, when thou show'st in a child, 

261 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Than the sea monster! 

HeaVj, nature, hear! 

Dear goddess, hear! Stispend thy purpose, if 

Thou did'st intend to maJce this creature fruit' 

ful! 
Into her womb convey sterility! 
Dry up in her the organs of increase; 
And from her degraded body never spring 
A bahe to honor her! If she must teem. 
Create her a child of spleen; that it may live 
And be a thwart disnatured torment to her! 
Let it stamp wrinhles on her brow of youth; 
With falling tears fret channels in her cheelcs; 
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits 
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel 
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
!ro have a thankless child!'' 

^low, wind, and crach your cheelcs! rage! blow! 

You cataracts, and hurricanes, spout 

Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the 

codes ! 
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires. 
Vaunt-couriers to oah'cleaving thunderbolts. 
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaTcvng 

thunder. 
Strike Hat the thick rotundity of the world! 
Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once. 
That make ingrateful men! 
Rumble thy belly fidl! Spit fire! Spout rain! 
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters; 
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness, 
I never gave you kingdom, called you children, 
Yqu owe me no obedience; why then let fall 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Your horrible pleasure; here I stand your slave, 

A poor, infirm, weah and despised old man; 

But yet I call you servile ministers. 

That have with two pernicious daughters joined 

Your high-engendered battles 'gainst a head 

So old as this! I am a man more sinned against 

Than sinning, . . . 

Ay, every inch a King! 
When I do stare, see, how the subject quahes! 
I pardon that man's life; what was thy cause'? 

Adultery; — 
Thou shalt not die; die for adultery! No! 
The wren goes to it; and the small gilded Hy 
Does lecher in my sight. 

Let copulation thrive, for Gloster's bastard son 
Was Tcinder to his father than my daughters 
Got between the lawful sheets; 
To it luxury, pell-mell, for I lacJc soldiers. — 
Behold yon simpering dame. 
Whose face between her forlcs presageth snow; 
That minceth virtue, and does shake the head 
To hear of pleasure's name; 
The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to it 
With more riotous appetite. 
Down from the waist they are centaurs. 
Though women all above; 
But to the girdle do the gods inherit. 
Beneath is all the fiends. 

Through tattered clothes small vices do appear 
Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin 
with gold 

263 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

And the strong lance of justice hreaks; 

Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it!'' 

Prospero, the Duke philosopher and magician 
of the "Tempest/' is my greatest conception, where 
I command invisible spirits to work out the fate 
of man, and show that love and forgiveness are 
the greatest attributes. Prospero is blessed with a 
pure and faithful daughter — Miranda, and an 
honorable son-in-law — Ferdinand. 

*"'// I have too austerely punished you. 
Your compensation makes amends; for I 
Have given you here a thread of mine own life. 
Or that for which I live; whom once again 
I tender to thy hand; all thy vexations 
Were hut w.y trials of thy love, and thou 
Hast strangely stood the test; here afore heaven 
I ratify this my rich gift. 0, Ferdinand, 
Do not smile at me, that I hoast her off. 
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise. 
And make it halt behind her. 
Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition. 
Worthily purchased, take my daughter; But 
If thou dost break her virgin knot before 
All sanctimonious ceremonies may 
With full and holy rites be ministered. 
No sweet sprinkling shall the heavens let fall 
To make this contract grow; but barren hate. 
Sour -eyed disdain, and discord, shall beshrew 
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly 
That you shall hate it both; therefore, take heed 
As Hymen's lamps shall light you! 



mi 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

You do looTc, my son, in a moved sort 
As if you were dismayed; he cheerful. Sir; 
Our revels now are ended; these our actors. 
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and are 
Melted into air, into thin air; 
And, nice the baseless fabricTc of this vision 
The clod-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces. 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself. 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve; 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded. 
Leave not a roch behind; We are such stuff 
As dreams are made of, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep! 



Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and 

groves; 
And ye, that on the sands with fruitless feet 
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him 
When he comes back; you demi-puppets, that 
By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make. 
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pas- 
time 
Is to make midnight mushrooms; that rejoice 
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid 
(Weak masters though you be), I have bedimmed 
The noontide sun, called forth the mutinous 

winds. 
And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault 
Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder 
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak 
With his own bolt; the strong based promontory 
Have I made shake; and by the spurs plucked up 
The pine and cedar; graves, at my command, 

§65 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Have waked their sleepers; gaped, and let them 

forth. 
By my so potent art; But this rough magic 
I here abjure; and when I have required 
Some heavenly music (ivhich even now I do) 
To work mine end upon their senses, that 
This airy charm is for — Fll break my staff. 
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth. 
And deeper than did ever plummet sound 
Fll drown my books! 

The fall of Cardinal Wolsey from the pinnacle 
of earthly power was the work of his own du- 
plicity, greed and fraud, and all ministers of 
state may take warning from this great wreck of 
unholy ambition ! King Henry the Eighth sac- 
rificed everything for his physical and religions 
ambition. Listen and profit by the last words of 
the old, ruined Cardinal: 

''0, Father Abbot, 
An old man, broken with the storms of state. 
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; 
Give him a little earth for charity! 
I have touched the highest point of all my great- 
ness 
And, from that full meridian of my glory, 
I haste now to my setting; I shall fall 
Like a bright exhalation in the evening. 
And no man see me more! 

"Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! 
This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, 

26G 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

And hears his blushing honors thick upon him; 
The third day^ comes a frosty a hilling frost; 
And, when he thinks^, good, easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a ripening — nips his root. 
And then he falls as I do. I have ventured 
Like little wanton hoys that swim on bladders 
This many summer's in a sea of glory; 
But far beyond my depth; my high blown pride 
At length broke under me; and now has left me 
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream that mu^t forever hide me. 
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye; 
I feel my heart new opened; 0, how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on princes^ favors! 
There is betwixt that smile he would aspire to. 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin. 
More pangs and fears than wars or women have; 
And when he falls he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again! 

The King has gone beyond me, all my glories 
In that one woman (Anne) I have lost forever; 
■ No sun shall ever usher forth mine honors. 
Or gild again the noble troops that waited 
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Crom- 
well, 
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now 
To be thy lord and master; seek the King; 
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told 

him 
What and how true thou art; he will advance 

thee; 
Some little memory of me will stir him 
(I know his noble nature) not to let 
Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

^Neglect him not, make use now, and 'provide 

For thine own future safety. 

Cromwell, I did not thinh to shed a tear 

In all my miseries; hut thou hast forced me 

Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. 

Lefs dry our eyes; and thu^ far hear me, Crom- 

well; 
And when I am forgotten, as I shall he 
And sleep in dull cold marhle, where no mention 
Of me more must he heard of, say, I taught thee; 
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory. 
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor 
Found thee a way out of his wrecTc to rise in; 
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it I 
Marh hut my fall, and that that ruined me, 
Cromwell, I charge thee fling away amhition. 
By that sin fell the angels; how can man then. 
The image of his oivn maher hope to win hy it ? 
Love thyself least; cherish those hearts that hate 

thee; 
Corruption wins not more than honesty! 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle place 
To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear 

not! 
Let all the aims thou aim'st at he thy country's; 
Thy God's and Truth's; then if thou falVst, 0, 

Cromwell, 
Thou falVst a hlessed martyr; serve the King; 
And, pray thee, lead me in; 
There take an enventory of alt I have 
To the last penny; His the King's; my rohe 
And my integrity to heaven, is all 
I dare now call my own, 0, Cromwell, Crom- 
well, 

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Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Had I hut served my God with half the zeal 
I served my King, he would not in mine age 
Have left me nahed to mine enemies T 

At the conclusion of this greatest of mono- 
logues King James arose at the head of the royal 
banquet board, and lifting a glass of sparkling 
champagne, proposed three cheers for Shakspere, 
which were given with intense feeling, echoed and 
re-echoed through those royal halls like thunder 
music from the realms of Jupiter. 

The King beckoned William to approach the 
throne chair, and there, in the presence of the no- 
bility of the realm, placed upon his lofty brow a 
wreath of oak leaves, with a monogram crown ring 
to decorate the digit finger of the brilliant Bard. 

It was worth the gold and glory of all the ages 
to have heard the "Divine" William scatter his 
nuggets of eloquence ; and until my pilgrimage of a 
thousand years reincarnates me again into the "Is- 
land of Immortality," I shall cherish that banquet 
night as the greatest milestone in the memory of 
my ruminating rambles. 

Glory, lihe the sun on rushing river. 
Shines down the years, forever, and forever! 



^6^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 



CHAPTER XIX. 

STRATFORD. SHAKSPERE's DEATH. PATRIOTISM 
DOWN THE AGES. 

''The sands are numhered that maTce up my life; 
Here must I stay, and here my life must end/' 

''Time is the King of man. 
For he is their parent, and he is their grave. 
And gives them what he will, not what they 
crave/' 

During the years 1614, 1615 and 1616 Shak- 
spere sauntered about for pleasure and business 
among the bohemians and nobility of London, Ox- 
ford and Stratford, piecing and renewing his per- 
sonal and real estate for the benefit of his two 
daughters, Susannah and Judith, and thus making 
every preparation for that eternal sleep that never 
fails to shut down the pale and bloodless eyelids of 
meandering, melancholy man. 

The spectacular play of "King Henry the 
Eighth^' was given at the Globe Theatre on the 
evening of the 29th of June, 1613. 

It had been largely advertised as a royal histor- 
ical dramatic treat, and the nobility were there in 
great force. 

William and myself before leaving London occu- 

270 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

pied a private box as spectators on the left of the 
great stage. The audience numbered nearly two 
thousand, pit, gallery and cockloft being filled to 
overflowing. 

During the third act of the play a cannon was 
fired, giving a grand salute to the mimic King 
Henry and his royal train as they appeared before 
the assembled multitude. 

Part of the gun wadding fired by the mock 
cannon was thrown on the open roof of the Globe, 
and immediately ignited the thatch, spreading 
flames around the top rim of the great octagonal 
playhouse. 

Shakspere saw at once the danger of stampeding 
the audience through the two great, high doors, and 
with his natural calmness and imperial courage 
rushed in front of the footlights and said : 

"Ladies and gentlemen, there is no danger if you 
be calm and brave, and file out of the building in 
good order." 

"Those near the right and left doors will please 
go out slowly, and all the actors will remain on 
the stage until the people disappear." At this junc- 
ture, at the suggestion of William, the actors were 
ordered to sing "God Save the King," and every 
mortal escaped unhurt from the building. Yet two 
hours after it was a mass of blazing cinders and 
ashes. 

Burbage, Jonson, Fletcher, Drayton, Condell, 
Heming and Peele continued to furnish rare sports 
and masks for theatrical and court edification, but 
the brilliant star that had shone with undimmed 
luster for thirty years on the dramatic stage of Lon- 
don was only glowing with a lambent light^ throw- 

2711 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

ing its last rays over the world as it went down in 
crimson glory over the western hills of Warwick- 
shire. 

Yet, while the great poet and dramatist himself 
would never again tread the play platform, or throw 
his sonorous, magic voice over a London audience, 
the great children and characters of his matchless 
brain would hold the dramatic boards and thrill 
the heart and soul of mankind as long as human 
nature laughed and suffered on the globe. 

Shakspere had more self-control than any man 
I ever met, and his reason was ever holding court 
in his conscience. 

He, who reigns within himself, and rules 
His passions, desires and fears, is ever King! 

After thirty years of a wandering battle with 
Dame Fortune, testing her griefs and glories, it 
was a sweet consolation for William and myself 
to drift back to the scenes of childhood and tread 
again the streets, roads, fields and hills that blessed 
our boyhood hours. 

In the spring of 1614 William and myself wan- 
dered over the fields and ridges to Coventry, and 
visited Warwick Castle. The young Earl of Leices- 
ter gave us a hearty welcome; for the praise that 
William had received at court and the light that 
dazzled from his lamp of literary fame made him 
an honored guest in cot or palace, strewing about 
his pathway the flowers of faith and affection. 

Returning to Stratford one evening in May we 
stood on the same old hill top beyond the Clopton 
Bridge, looking at the sparkling spires and steeples 

272 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

of the town; and all seemed as natural as when 
we left them in the morning of life. 

The hills and fields were blooming as of old, 
the Avon wound its serpentine course to the sea, 
the song of the ploughman and shepherd swelled 
from the vale^ the lowing of cattle, strolling home- 
ward for the night echoed among the hills, the 
blackbird, thrush and vagrant crow sang and 
croaked as they hastened with their mates to their 
feathered families, and the daisies, wild roses, 
hedge rows, hawthorn bushes, and grand old elms 
and oaks bloomed in their everlasting garments of 
variegated beauty. 

As the cardinal colors of the dying day threw 
their last rays over the placid bosom of the Avon, 
and the murmur of laughing voices floated up from 
the town to mingle, as it were, with the curling 
smoke from glistening chimney tops, William and 
I scampered down the hill, over the bridge, on by 
the old mill, and entered the open gate of "New 
Place,^^ as Judith, his intellectual daughter, wel- 
comed her famous father with exuberant affection. 

Here was rest indeed. For like weather-beaten 
mariners or soldiers of fortune, each of us had 
been buffeted by the billows of Fate; and yet with 
all the scars she gave, we never knew a day, though 
cloudy and stormy, that we could not see rifts of 
sunshine breaking through the entanglements of 
adversity. 

Our mind, a hingdom was, in every dime. 
With souls triumphant over tide and time; 
And though the world might frown upon our way 
We helieved in God and sunshine every day! 

373 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The strolling players, literary guild and travel- 
ing nobles never failed in passing through. Strat- 
ford to visit Shakspere at his beautiful and com- 
fortable home at "New Place." It was Liberty 
Hall to every guest that passed the threshold of 
the retired Bard, where like a full-rigged ship on 
a summer sea, he moved down in peace, through 
the sunset beams of a brilliant life, accompanied 
by his friends and affectionate daughters into the 
harbor of rest beneath the walls of old Trinity 
Church. 

Susannah, the oldest daughter, had married Dr. 
John Hall several years before the poet's death, and 
occupied the old Shakspere house on Henley street, 
and her mother lived with the family, a solace 
to her daughter and beautiful granddaughter, 
Elizabeth Hall. 

Mrs. Shakspere, the buxom Anne Hathaway of 
vanished years, was entirely subdued and found 
consolation in her devoted daughters and religious 
duties. She could be found at every prayer meet- 
ing and Sunday sermon in the Shakspere pew of 
Trinity Church. 

William seldom attended Puritan meetings. 
Episcopal conclaves, or Papist masses. He paid 
formal respect, at long range, to all sacerdotal 
ceremonies, not bothering himself about dogmas, 
creeds and bulls, put forth by little, cunning man 
for earthly power and financial benefit. 

He believed in God and in himself. 
Ignoring those who lived for pelf. 
And through his age and verdant youth 
Ee ever worshiped nahed Truth ! 

274 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Judith, the beautiful and intellectual daughter, 
kept house for her illustrious father, and entered 
heartily into all his social and business schemes 
for the improvement of the town of Stratford. 

Thus days, weeks, months and years were passed 
in pleasant conclave with literary and neighboring 
friends, until the winter of 1615 and 1616, when 
a severe throat trouble afflicted the Bard, in con- 
junction with acute pains in the head, that pre- 
vented the solace of sleep, and which turned into 
chronic insomnia. 

In January, Shakspere, in anticipation of his 
temporary exit from this world, determined to 
make his will and bequeath his property in detail 
to his daughter, relatives and friends. He called 
in Francis Collins, a solicitor of Warwick, who 
drew the important document, but it was not 
finally signed and witnessed until the 35th of 
March, 1616. 

William, knowing that his wife would inherit 
legal dower, one-third of his real property, and 
being cared for by her daughter Susannah, only 
bequeathed to the "former Anne Hathaway,^' the 
personal gift of his "second best bed." 

I asked Shakspere one evening about a month 
before his death if he intended the piece of bed 
furniture for his wife as a rebuke or a compliment. 

He replied : "Jack, if you were not so inquisitive 
3^ou would not have so much knowledge!" 

I thanked him for his lucid explanation, and 
let the incident go at that remark. 

As he was in a good-natured, facetious mood, I 
asked him why it was that in all his dramatic plays 
of forty years composition he had never placed on 

375 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

the boards a great Irish character, although he 
had created Egyptian, Grecian, Italian, French, 
German, Danish, Scotch and English representa- 
tives that wonld go down the ages in eloquent glory. 

I said, "William, you only formulated in Henry 
the Fifth Captain MacMorris, a Scotch-Irish bas- 
tard-renegade character, who bears about as much 
relation to a true Irish gentleman as does a shark 
to a whale, a hawk to an eagle, or a lynx to a lion." 

"Well, Jack, you know as well as I do that the 
''eloquent,' ^Drave,' ^Irish rebel,' against monarchy 
and tyrannical power has been the sharpest thorn 
in the sides of English royalty, and that with the 
enmity of Henry the Eighth, Queen Elizabeth, 
King James, and the London Protestants, a great, 
lofty Irish Catholic character would not have been 
popular, and ministered to our daily desire for 
pence, shillings and pounds ! 

"Yet posterity will notice the brave wit and 
greatness of the Irish race by their absence from 
my business plays." 

While writing for the sake of Truth, 
From my wild, daring, earliest youth. 
You Tcnew I never acted rash 
Or failed to fill my purse with cash; 

For, after all is past and told 
Among the foolish, wise and old — 
The plot of life is to enfold 
Within your grasp. Imperial Gold! 

On the 10th of January, 1616, Judith impul- 
sively married Thomas Quincy, without the publi- 

^76 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

cation of the church banns, to the scandal of the 
community, but love cared naught for rules or 
creeds when Nature stood as monitor. 

Seated one April morning in his private apart- 
ment, looking over his beautiful garden of vege- 
tables, fruit, flowers, vines and waving elms, mar- 
gined by the murmuring waters of the silver Avon, 
I asked him if he had any special message before 
leaving life to communicate to the ages. 

"Yes, my dear Jack, you, by nature's law must, 
like the Wandering Jew, fulfill your destiny, and 
'tramp' out your thousand years ere you join me 
on the 'Island of Immortality.' These precepts I 
enjoin : 

The Love and Truth that in my plays abide 

Shall teach the lesson of equal justice; 

Nothing thafs wrong can prosper on this earth. 

And though your crime-secret he hid in mounts 

Of adamant, hissing, loftiest sTcy, 

The worm of detection and exposure 

Shall gnaw its ivay through rugged, granite rihs 

And blow your foul wickedness around the world. 

Men, states and empires, rise and Hash liTce bubbles 

On the rolling ocean of existence. 

And then liTce the false, shimmering vision 

Of a dream, pass into nameless oblivion. 

The hours, days, years and ages, lost and gone 

Are only a moment from the ticking clock 

Of eternity. And all future time. 

Incalculable as drops of ocean 

Or leaves of grass, come and go incessant. 

Like the balmy airs; or whistling winds 

That blow o'er tropic or arctic lands. 

377 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

I Icnow and feel that myriad spirits 

People the vast, circumambient air, — 

And as my soul within JcnocTcs at heart and lips 

For exit from this crumbling house of corruption, 

Methinlcs I see and hear a chorus of 

Angel spirits becTconing my tired soul 

Onward and upward to omnipotence. 

Every blade of grass and flower beautiful; 

Every star that twinhles in the moonlit shy; 

Every white-crested billow of the sea; 

Every child that dreams, laughs and sings in glee; 

Every thought, pinioned with eternal Hope-— 

Guarantees assurance of Immortality ! 

On the 13th of April, 1616, ten days before the 
death of Shakspere, Burbage, Jonson, Drayton, 
Plorio, Field, Condell, Heming and Jo Taylor 
came down from London by special invitation to 
enjoy the hospitality of the Bard. 

Jndith made every preparation for their social 
entertainment, and the "New Place" was ablaze 
with hospitality and dramatic glory for a week. 

I shall not enter into the pleasant and eccentric 
details of these authors and actors, but leave it to 
the imagination of the intelligent reader to know 
what a crowd of brilliant bohemians might do in 
the evening of life talking, laughing and drinking 
to the memory of friends and days that are no 
more! 

Three days before the death of the great lumi- 
nary of dramatic and poetic letters, he called me 
into his bedroom. He was resting in a reclining 
chair by an oaken desk, looking out on his garden, 
while the birds of spring were chirping, singing 

378 






gSQ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

and courting among the blooming bushes and trees 
of his beautiful home. 

Addressing me in the old familiar way, he said : 
*^Jaek, my throat and head give me great pain. I 
long to rest beneath the walls of Old Trinity 
Church, never again to gaze upon its glinting spire 
through sunrise or sunset beams. 

^*You know I feel a horror at the thought of 
having my poor old bones tumbled out of their 
grave in future years by vulgar sextons, and to 
prevent disturbance I scribbled off a few weeks 
ago these poetic lines, that I wish you would place 
above my remains. Promise me this last request, 
and Fll die in the hope of Immortality !" 

Gazing intently on the melancholy, dying man, 
my eyes filled with tears, I made the sacred prom- 
ise, and more than that, I here give the manuscript 
imprint of the original epitaph: 

STRATFORD, APRIL 1st, 1616. 

For Jesus' sake, good friends, pass hy. 
While here in peace I lowly lie; 
Disturb not these cold, tongueless stones 
That shield my bleaching, crumbling bones. 
In life I tooTc Dame Nature's part 
Exemplifying soul and heart. 
And all my plays were heaven sent 
To be my lasting monument! 

On the morning of the 23d of April, at six 
o'clock, Judith came rushing into my room, and 
said that her father was dying. I jumped into my 
clothes and quickly knelt by his bedside, where I 

081 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

found Dr. Hall, Susannah, Mr. Quincy, Mrs. Hart, 
Ben Jonson, and Michael Drayton. 

I grasped his hand as he made dying lurches, 
and asked him how he felt, and then opening his 
great bluish gray eyes for the last time on earth, 
I could hear only his death gurgle expression: 
"God, Truth and Country V 

Thus passed away the noblest and greatest man 
that ever graced this earthly globe. 

The news of his death spread like a prairie fire 
among the people of Stratford and the surrounding 
villages, and on to Oxford and London, where the 
melancholy wail of his obsequies resounded in the 
halls of the highest court circles, and found the 
deepest sorrow and regret in the heart of King 
James. 

At twelve o'clock on the 25th of April the re- 
mains of the Bard were followed to Trinity Church 
by an immense concourse of mourning humanity; 
and there, under the north wall of the old cathe- 
dral he was buried, seventeen feet below the sur- 
face, and left forever with his earthly glory and his 
God. 

That very night, as the sun went down, Drayton, 
Jonson, Burbage and myself bade farewell to the 
daughters and personal friends of the Bard, going 
by fast mail car to Oxford and London. 

It was one of the saddest nights I had ever ex- 
perienced, for my dearest friend and lofty teacher 
would no more humor my lunatic impulses, or 
guide me in the even, broad road of universal 
truth. With his voice and form forever gone, there 
was nothing left to me but to wander over the 
cheerless, mighty world as a literary pioneer and 

28^ 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

soldier of fortune, using my pen and sword 
wherever Love and Liberty displayed their ban- 
ners. 

In the great literary whirlpool of London life I 
drowned for a season my soul-felt sorrow in the 
enchanting fumes of the wine cup, and its conse- 
quent allurements of variegated, fantastic society. 

My destiny of a thousand years of life from 
birth, looked alternately, bleak and glorious, yet 
Fate being my master, and being endowed with an 
irrepressible, forgiving, laughing and progressive 
disposition, I called up the spirits of the air one 
midnight hour at the Boar's Head Tavern, and 
exacted from them a promise that wherever I wan- 
dered over the earth to witness the rise and fall of 
men and nations, like bubbles on a stormy sea, 
they would strictly obey my command. 

Arielj, Fuck and Oheron 

Lent me their wings to sail upon 

Over the land and stormy sea 

To aid the cause of Liberty. 

A thousand years from date of hirth. 

Destined to wander over the earth, 

ril roll with the ages hrave and free. 

Till 1 round the capes of eternity ! 

I have witnessed the greatest events of the cen- 
turies in Europe, Asia and Africa, and on the 
spiritual wings of Truth, rapid as the lightning 
flash, I have sailed; and fought the battles of the 
people in every land and clime, being the compeer 
and critic of the most illustrious poets, philoso- 
phers, statesmen and warriors for the past three 

283 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

hundred years. I move forward for the liberty of 
man! 

Before leaving old Albion for my investigating 
flight of centuries, I was a painful witness to the 
decapitation of my great friend. Sir Walter Eal- 
eigh, whose heroic conduct at the block melted 
the spectators into tears, and brought down loud 
maledictions on the corrupt head of Lord Bacon, 
who was the principal villain in the final de- 
struction of the great navigator, warrior and 
philosopher. 

I listened to the great Ealeigh on the 29th of 
October, 1618, standing by the block, addressing 
the executioner and the multitude, when handling 
the shining axe: "This is a sharp medicine, but a 
sound cure for all diseases \" Lying down and 
fitting himself to the block, the executioner asked 
him to alter the position of his head, when he re- 
plied: "It is no matter which way the head lies, 
so the heart be right ! Why dost thou not strike ? 
Strike, man!" And, then, quick as a flash the 
glittering axe split the head from the shoulders of 
one of the noblest men of England. 

I turned away from the gloomy precincts of the 
terrible Tower, and cursed the falsehood and in- 
iquity of Elizabeth, James and Lord Bacon, jealous 
plotters against growing, illustrious men. 

Ealeigh in his poem "The Soul's Errand/^ pic- 
tures thus this lying world: 

''Go, soul, the tody's guest. 
Upon a thanlcless arrant; 
Fear not to touch the best. 
The truth shall he thy warrant; 

284 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Go, since I needs must die. 
And give the world the lie! 

''Go, tell the court it glows 
And shines lihe rotten wood; 
Go tell the church it shows 
What's good, and doth no good. 
If church and court reply. 
Then give them both the lie! 

''Tell men of high condition 
That manage home and state. 
Their purpose is ambition. 
Their practice only hate; 
And if they once reply 
Then give them all the lie!'* 

Disgusted with the growing cruelties of mon- 
archy and state "reformers/^ I joined a band of 
Puritans who proposed to leave old Albion, and 
find in North America a home and country where 
they could worship God in their own way, and se- 
cure freedom for themselves and children for a 
thousand years to come. 

I stood on the prow of the Mayflower as the sun 
rose over the harbor of Plymouth on the 17th of 
September, 1620, as the good ship sailed away from 
England to the west, with one hundred and one 
passengers, filled with the great spirit of religious 
and material liberty. 

After a very stormy passage of sixty-three days, 
touching at Cape Cod, we made final anchor at 
Plymouth Eock, on the evening of the 16th of 
December, 1620. 

^S5. 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

That rock-bound, stormy, snowy, forest coast, 
filled with fierce animals and fiercer red men, gave 
the lonely emigrants a cold and terrible winter re- 
ception. 

'^The hreaking waves dashed high 
On a stern and rock hound coast. 
And the woods against a stormy sky 
Their giant tranches tossed. 
And the heavy night hung dark. 
The hills and waters o'er 
When a hand of exiles moored their hark 
On the wild New England shore. 
Amidst the storm they sang. 
And the stars heard, and the sea; — 
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
To the anthem of the free!" 

I stood behind the screens of the royal palace on 
the 30th of January, 1649, in the presence of the 
cruel Cromwell, Ireton, Bradshaw, and the fanati- 
cal Milton, and saw their glee when the axe of 
the executioner severed the head of King Charles 
the First, for the delectation of the beastly and 
vulgar multitude that howled approbation of the 
bloody scene; and yet, only twelve years after, I 
saw the crumbling, dead, naked bodies of Oliver 
Cromwell, his son, Ireton and Bradshaw, trundled 
along the streets of London, grappled by Parlia- 
mentary order from their graves, and hung on the 
gallows of Tyburn, their broken bones buried at the 
foot of the scaffold, while their withered, rotten 
heads were placed on the southern coping of West- 
minster Hall. 

38« 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Thus, the compensating balances of life and 
death;, right and wrong, forever tip the beam of 
justice. 

The prince and the pauper. 
The serf and the slave. 
Are equal at last — 
In the dust of the grave! 

I saw the wonderful Muscovite monarch, 

PETER THE GEEAT, 

as he rose out of the huge, brutal giant of Russian 
force, flash on the world like a zigzag meteor, 
lighting up his imperial dominions with barbaric 
splendor. 

At the age of twenty-six, 1698, I saw him work- 
ing with hammer, chisel, saw and axe as a common 
ship carpenter at Amsterdam and Deptford, en- 
tertaining ambassadors and kings, while he sat on 
the crosstrees of a new built ship. I met him 
again on the barren swamps of the Neva and icy- 
shores of the Baltic, giving orders for the building 
of his new capital, St. Petersburg, in May, 1703, 
and in June, 1708, watched the compact columns 
of the great Czar rush down upon Charles the 
Twelfth of Sweden, and on the plains of Pultowa, 
scatter forever the hitherto unconquerable hosts of 
Scandinavia; and then after a great reign he 
crowned the peasant girl, Catherine of Livonia, 
Empress of all the Russias, the most energetic 
and remarkable female ruler since the days of 
Semiramis, Isabella and Elizabeth. 

^87, 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

I watched the star of 

NAPOLEON 

as it first flickered over the rock-rimmed island of 
Corsica^ foam fringed by the green waters of the 
Mediterranean. I saw it glitter over the mathe- 
matical charity scholar of France, the "pnss in 
boots" at royal receptions, the artillery officer at 
the Bridge of Lodi, the general of the French- 
Italian army, scaling the clond-kissing Alps in mid 
winter, bearing the eagles of liberty over the 
plains of Lombardy, on to Milan and Rome, imtil 
the tramp of the nnconquerable Frank echoed 
through the streets and halls of the Caesars, and 
re-echoed in the lofty aisles and arches of the 
"Vatican ! 

I beheld again the star of this "man of destiny'^ 
shine in glorious splendor at Maringo, Wagram, 
Ansterlitz, Jena, Leipsic and Ulm, and then as 
First Consul and Emperor, sweeping with his nn- 
conquerable columns over the sands of Egypt and 
snows of Russia, until at last the fires and smoke 
of Moscow bedimmed the horizon of his glory, and 
lit up the funeral pyre of five hundred thousand 
of the best soldiers of France, led to their doom 
by the crazy ambition of a selfish tyrant ! 

Again I saw him escape from Elba, bare his 
breast to the guns of his former legions and rout 
royalty from its palace portals, and sweeping for 
a hundred days over the vineclad hills of France, 
he finally on the 18th of June, 1815, marshaled 
his magnificent army around the plains and hills 
of Waterloo, defying the Austrian, Prussian, Eus^ 

288 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

sian and British allied armies to the death grapple 
of the century, and went down to irretrievable 
defeat. 

And then after Ryq long years of an exile im- 
prisonment on the barren isle of St. Helena, I 
heard his last gasp, "Head of the Army !" 

"With no friend but his sword and no fortune 
but his talents, he rushed in the lists, where rank 
and wealth and genius had arrayed themselves; 
and competition fled from him as from the glance 
of destiny. 

"A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the Pope; 
a pretended patriot, he impoverished the country; 
and in the name of Brutus, he grasped without re- 
morse and wore without shame the diadem of the 
Caesars ! 

"Such a medley of contradictions, and at the 
same time such an individual consistency were never 
united in the same character ; a Eoyalist, a Eepub- 
lican and an Emperor; a Mahometan, a Catholic, 
and a patron of the synagogue, a subaltern and a 
sovereign, a traitor and a tyrant, a Christian and 
infidel, he was through all his vicissitudes, the same 
stern, impatient, inflexible original, the same mys- 
terious, incomprehensible self — ^the man without a 
model and without a shadow !" 



A wreck of ambition, deserted, alone. 
He rode o'er the hones of manhind to a throne; 
The star of his destiny sunk out of view. 
Eclipsed in the hlood of the famed Waterloo. 
A marvelous meteor that Hashed o'er the wave. 
To darkle at last in the gloom of the grave. 

289 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Vain^ vain all the pomp of Napoleon's pride, 
Brolcen-Jieartedj alone, disappointed he died. 
And left to the world hut the sound of his name — 
The fool of amhition, the football of fame! 

I sat at the second story corner window of a 
wine house in Paris on the 14th of July, 1789, 
and gazed on the infuriated, surging mob of a 
hundred thousand Frenchmen, as they stormed the 

BASTILE, 

and struck a grand and lasting blow against the 
cruel minions of monarchy, raising the banner of 
equal right, and God-given liberty for all mankind. 

Five hundred years of royal wrong and imperial 
lordly wickedness were avenged in an hour, and the 
liberty cap of the people thrown high in the air of 
freedom to bid defiance to government by tyranny. 

Then for four bloody years the surging sea of 
wealth and power against the common people, 
muscle and manhood, defying royalty, I saw thou- 
sands of heads go to the block, the executioner of 
to-day being the executed of to-morrow, until a 
river of blood drenched the gutters of Paris, with 
the people at last on top and triumphant as they 
shall ever be adown the circling ages ! 

I stood near the guillotine of 

LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH 

as his head went off on the 21st of January, 1793, 
and then alternately, royalist and commoner were 
imprisoned and killed by the ^^committee of 
safety !" 

290 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Marie Antoinette^ Charlotte Corday, Marat, 
Madame Eoland, Danton^, Eobespierre and one hun- 
dred thousand other mortals, rich and poor, went 
down in the insane, frantic effort for equal rights 
and eternal justice. 

The French Revolution following so soon upon 
the great American Revolution, shouldered the 
people^s cause ahead more than a thousand years, 
and was worth every drop of blood spilled in the 
triumphal march of freedom! 

The blood of the martyr has always watered the 
roots of the tree of Liberty; and in a few more 
years the devilish hoards of "Divine Right" robbers 
and murderers will be swept into the rubbish heaps 
of oblivion. God grant their speedy destruction! 
Wolves devouring the provender of the people! 

On the 22d of February, 1732, I saw rise out 
of the rolling hills of Virginia, a glowing light 
that sparkled and spread, as it shone in the heaven 
of Colonial advancement. 

WASHINGTON', 

"first in war, first in peace and in the hearts of his 
countrymen," was the God-given vidette of Ameri- 
can freedom ; and from the time he took command 
of the Continental Army at Boston on the 3d of 
July, 1775, until he laid down his commission, 
after nine years of trial and blood, with Cornwallis 
and King George defeated forever, he was the same 
great and good man and President, without a stain 
on his sword or character. 

Standing by his bedside at Mount Vernon, on 
the 31st of December, 1799, I watched his great 

^91 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

soul as it took flight for heaven, and heard his last 
words on earth, " 'Tis well !" 

Like some grand mountain shining from afar^ 
Or like the radiance of the morning star. 
Spreading its silver light throughout the gloom. 
That gilds the glory of his classic tomh; 
Mount Vernon keeps his loved and sacred dust — 
An urn of grief that holds a nation's trust. 
Where pilgrims hend along the waning years. 
To gaze upon his grave through pearly tears. 
His monument in coming years shall stand 
A Mecca for the hrave of every land. 
And while Potomac waters Hash and. flow. 
The fame of Washington shall gain and grow, 
Adown the ages through the aisles of time — 
A patriot forever in his prime! 
Age after age will sweep its course away 
The work of man will crumble and decay; 
Yet, on the tide of time from sun to sun. 
Shall shine the glory of our Washington; 
And all the stars that in their orhit roll. 
Around the world from pole to pole. 
Shall keep his name and fame as true and hright. 
As yonder sparkling jewels of the night! 

The greatest pioneer of Colonial patriotism and 
independence, the Demosthenes of the American 
Continent, was the eloquent orator, 

PATRICK HENRY, 

whose meteors of thought dazzled the nations and 
made tyrants tremble on their thrones. 

292 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

How well I remember that March morning in 
1775, as he rose in the legislative halls of Virginia, 
and uttered that impassioned oration against tyr- 
anny and the minions of King George. 

Even now those eloquent phrases sound in mine 
ears, and waft me back to the scenes and men that 
made the Republic: 

"I have but one lamp by which my feet are 
guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I 
know of no way of judging of the future but by 
the past, and judging by the past, I wish to know 
what there has been in the conduct of the brutal 
British ministry for the past ten years to justify 
the hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased 
to solace themselves and the house. 

"Our petitions have been slighted; our re- 
monstrances have produced violence and insult; 
our supplications have been disregarded, and we 
have been spurned with contempt from the foot of 
the throne. 

"The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone, it is to 
the vigilant, the active, the brave. Our chains are 
forged ; their clanking may be heard on the plains 
of Boston. The war is inevitable ; and let it come. 
I repeat it, let it come. 

"Our brethren are already in the field; why 
stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen 
wish ? What would they have ? Is life so dear, or 
peace so sweet, as to be purchased by the price of 
chains and slavery? 

"Forbid it. Almighty God! 

"I know not what course others may take, but 
as for me, give me Liberty or give me Death !" 

^93 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

The patriotism of the cavaliers of Virginia was 
fermenting to overflowing, while that of the Puri- 
tans of Massachusetts was boiling with intense 
heat as the stamp-stampers and tea-tossers of 
Boston prepared for a deadly reception to the rob- 
bers and murders of King Greorge on the plains of 
Lexington and Concord on the 19th of April, 1775. 

Never can I forget the midnight ride I took 
with 

PAUL EEYEEE, 

on beholding the two lanterns displayed on the 
belfry of the "Old North Church"; I told the tale 
to Mr. Longfellow, and he forthwith immortalized 
the heroic Paul : 

^'A hurry of hoofs in a village street, 
A shape in the moonlight, a hulh in the darTc, 
And beneath from the pehhles, in passing, a sparh 
Struck out hy a steed flying fearless and iieet; 
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and 

the light 
The fate of a nation was riding that night. 
And the sparh struck out hy that steed in his 

■flight 
Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 

''You know the rest, in the hooks you have read. 
How the British regulars fired and Hed — 
How the farmers gave them hall for hall. 
From hehind each fence and farm yard wall. 
Chasing the 'Red Coats' down the lane. 
Then crossing the fields to emerge again. 
Under the trees at the turn of the road. 
And only pausing to fire and load, 

^94 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

''80 through the night rode Paul Revere; 
And so through the night went his cry of alarm 
To every Middlesex village and farm; 
A cry of defiance, and not of fear, 
A voice in the darhness, a Tcnoclc at the door 
And a word that shall echo for evermore! 
For horn on the night wind of the past. 
Through all our history to the last. 
In the hour of darhness and peril and need. 
The people will walcen and listen to hear 
The hurrying hoof heats of that steed. 
And the midnight message of Paul Revere." 

How my soul thrills with recollection when I 
think where I stood in Carpenters Hall, Phila- 
delphia, on the 4th of July, 1776, among the 
signers of the Declaration of Independence, and 
heard that grandest of human productions pro- 
claimed to the world. 

Each of the fifty-six signers was a modern Moses 
in himself, and to-day their heroic statues, in im- 
perishable bronze, should stand aloft on the shin- 
ing marble copings of the National Capitol. 

The glowing features and earnest, eloquent tones 
of 

HANCOCK, JEFFEESOISr, FEANKLIN, AND 

ADAMS 

come back to me now, in the sunlight and zenith of 
republican glory; and as the old bell in the tower 
rang out Liberty to all the people of the land, the 
city of Brotherly Love took up the acclaim, while 
on the wings of the wind it echoed and reached 

295 



Shakspere: Personal' Recollections 

from the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi, and from 
the Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico, sounding across 
the seas, and reverberating among the sparkling 
halls of royalty, shivering the idols of "Divine 
Eight,'' and forcing the plain, common people of 
the world into their long-neglected heritage of 
Freedom ! 

And there, side by side with Franklin and Jef- 
ferson, sat one of the Secretaries of the Continental 
Congress, 

TOM PAIISrE, 

the great deist, patriot and philosopher ; whose ele- 
mentary proclamations, "The Crisis," "Eights of 
Man,'' "Common Sense," and "Age of Eeason," did 
more for the promulgation of freedom during and 
after the American and French revolutions than 
any other utterance of man. 

The logic and philosophy of the great deist and 
agnostic was worth more to the Colonies, and did 
more injury to King Ceorge and his murdering 
minions, than all the purblind, bigoted, saphead 
pulpit thumpers who ever preached for ready cash. 

The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries pro- 
duced no nobler or better man than the brave Tom 
Paine, the personal and political compeer and 
friend of Washington, Jefferson, Franklin and 
Adams. 

The 

DECLAEATION OF AMEEICAJST INDE- 
PENDENCE 

was the greatest event in the history of mankind 
since the creation of Adam and the birth of Christ. 

^96 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

It was a lofty and true indictment against the 
crimes of monarchy, and was the entering wedge 
in splitting the rotten log of robber royalty. 

These words and phrases keep ever sounding in 
my soaring soul: 

"We hold these truths to be self-evident ; that all 
men are created equal; that they are endowed by 
their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that 
among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of 
happiness !" 

"The history of the King of Great Britain is a 
history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all 
having in direct object the establishment of an ab- 
solute tyranny over these States/' 

"The King has plundered our seas, ravaged our 
coasts, burned our towns and destroyed the lives of 
our people." 

"The road to happiness and glory is open to us ; 
we will climb it apart from the British Govern- 
ment, and acquiesce our eternal separation, and 
hold them as we hold the rest of mankind, enemies 
in war, in peace friends.^' 

"And for the support of this Declaration, with 
reliance in Divine Providence, we mutally pledge 
to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred 
honor !" 

Moving along with the martyrs who have died 
for progress and liberty : 

I stood in the English Court September 30th, 
1803, beside the heroic 

EOBEET EMMET, 

and heard him hurl these javelins of defiant patri- 

^97 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

otic eloquence against the brazen brutality of 
British judicial tyranny: 

"When my spirit shall be wafted to a more 
friendly port ; when my shade shall have joined the 
bands of those martyred heroes who have shed 
their blood on the scaffold and in the field, in de- 
fense of their country and virtue, this is my hope : 
I wish that my memory and name may animate 
those who survive me, while I look down with com- 
placency on the destruction of this perfidious 
Government, which upholds its dominion by blas- 
phemy of the Most High. 

^^The blood which you seek is not congealed by 
the artificial terrors which surround your victim; 
it circulates warmly and unrufiled through the 
channels which God created for noble purposes, but 
which you are bent to destroy for purposes so , 
grievous that they cry to Heaven! 

"Let no man write my epitaph; for, as no one 
who knows my motives dares now vindicate them, 
let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let 
them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my 
tomb remain uninscribed until other times and 
other men can do justice to my character and 
memory. When my country shall take her place 
among the nations of the earth, then, and not till 
then, let my epitaph be written.'^ 

Again, in my peripatetic tour of nations, seek- 
ing and aiding the hosts of Liberty, I stood with 

GEISTERAL ANDREW JACKSON, 

the greatest Irish-American citizen, soldier and 
President, behind the cotton bales and swamps of 

398 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

"New Orleans, and on the 8th of January, 1815, I 
saw him hurl more than two thousand "Red Coats" 
into eternity, with only a loss of seven men, three 
killed and four wounded. 

Kentucky and Tennessee "Bushwhackers," with 
a lot of S'ew Orleans shopkeepers, armed with 
squirrel rifles, killed and defeated General Paken- 
ham, and the veteran troops of John Bull, in their 
raids over the globe for land, loot and human 
blood. 

And still moving across the Gulf of Mexico, to 
Vera Cruz ; and by land to Buena Vista, with 

SCOTT AND TAYLOR, 

I heard the scream of the American eagle as it 
swooped down on the tyrant troops of Santa Ana, 
and with the Stars and Stripes waving in the 
breeze, beheld the United States soldiers charge the 
castellated heights of Chapultepec, and the next 
day, the 14th of September, 1847, saw General 
Scott plant his colors over the "National Pal- 
ace," with his conquering army marching in glory 
through the city and halls of the Montezumas. 

Yet, with all the woes of Mexico, I saw it in 
after years, rise out of the toils of foreign mon- 
archy, when General Juarez, the native liberator, 
captured and killed the Archduke Maximilian, 
the representative of the Little Napoleon of France. 

The "Monroe Doctrine" triumphed in the death 
gurgle of Maximilian. 

Sic semper tyrannisi 

Treasoii to tyrants is truth to the people! 

^99 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Off with the heads of Charles the First^ Loui^ 
the Sixteenth and Eobespierre ! 
I stood by the side of 

GENEEAL BEAUREGABD 



on the 12th of April, 1861, at the city of Charles- 
ton, Sonth Carolina, and heard him give the order 
to "fire" on the flag at Fort Sumter. 

Slavery and "State Rights" threw down the 
gauntlet to Freedom and "National Rights!" A 
million of men were destroyed in the great Amer- 
ican Rebellion, and after four years of the bloodiest 
civil war in history, the Stars and Stripes arose in 
all its glory at Appomattox, and fluttered again 
over the fort in Charleston Harbor, so nobly de- 
fended by the illustrious Major Anderson. 

Alternate success and defeat came to the Union 
army and the Confederate forces. Bull Run, 
Donelson, Shiloh, Antietam, Stone River, Vicks- 
burg, Chickamauga, Missionary Ridge, Spottsyl- 
vania, Fredericksburg, the Wilderness, and Gettys- 
burg, are battle milestones of the Republic that 
shall never be forgotten so long as valor and man- 
hood find a lodgment in the human heart. 

Gettysburg is the mausoleum of the American 
Marathon and the Thermopylae of Liberty. The 
grandest heroes of the world died here. 

''They fell^ devoted, hut undying; 
The very gales their names seem sighing; 
The waters murmur of their name; 
The woods are peopled with their fame; 

300 



Shakspcrc: iPersonal Recollections 

The silent pillars, lone and gray. 
Claim Jcindred with their silent clay; 
Their spirits wrap the dushy mountain. 
Their memory sparhles o'er the fountain; 
The meanest rill, the mightiest river 
Bolls mingling with their fame forever!" 

What soldier at Gettysburg will ever forget the 
terrible battles of the 1st, 2d and 3d of July, 1863, 
when 

GENERAL MEAD AND GENERAL LEE, 

with two hundred thousand Americans met in 
deadly conflict for the salvation or destruction of 
the Great Republic ? 

The vales and rills and rocks and hills for twenty 
miles around trembled with the onslaught of the 
contending hosts, and from Gulp's Hill to Ceme- 
tery Heights and Round Top the smoke and blaze 
of the rifle and the cannon lit up the bloody scene 
with the concussion of an earthquake and volcano, 
and the climax charge of Pickett's Division punc- 
tured the bravest and most unavailing assault ever 
made by heroic soldiers; and although these war- 
riors in "gray were doomed to defeat by the 
defenders of the Union, they deserve a crown of 
unfading glory for imperishable American valor. 

Standing by the side of 

PRESIDENT ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

on the heights of Gettysburg, on the 19th of Novem- 
ber, 1863, I heard him deliver before a multitude 

801 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

of people the following eloquent and philosophic 
address in dedicating the great National Cemetery : 

^^Four score and seven years ago our fathers 
brought forth on this continent a new nation, con- 
ceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition 
that all men are created equal. 

"ISTow we are engaged in a great civil war, test- 
ing whether that nation, or any nation so con- 
ceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are 
met on a great battlefield of that war. We have 
come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final 
resting place for those who here gave their lives 
that the nation might live. It is altogether fitting 
and proper that we should do this. 

"But, in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we 
cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. 
The brave men living and dead, who struggled 
here have consecrated it far above our poor power 
to add or detract. 

"The world will little note nor long remember 
what we say here, but it can never forget what they 
did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be 
dedicated here to the unfinished work which they 
who fought here have so far nobly advanced. It is 
rather for us to be dedicated to the great task re- 
maining before us that from these honored dead we 
take increased devotion to that cause for which 
they gave the last full measure of devotion; that 
we here highly resolve that these dead shall not 
have died in vain ; and that this nation under God 
shall have a new birth of freedom; and that gov- 
ernment of the people, by the people and for the 
people shall not perish from the earth/' 

SOS 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

I saw 

GENERAL GRANT 

at Appomattox on the 9th of April, 1865, I hear 
again these phrases of the silent soldier to General 
Lee: 

^*I am equally anxions for peace with yourself 
and the whole North entertains the same feeling. 
The terms upon which peace can be had are well 
understood. By the South laying down their arms 
they will hasten that most desirable event, save 
thousands of human lives, and hundreds of mil- 
lions of property not yet destroyed.'^ 

'^The ofiScers to give their individual paroles 
not to take up arms against the Government of the 
United States until properly exchanged, and each 
company or regimental commander sign a like 
parole for the men of their commands. 

"The surrender of all munitions of war will not 
embrace the side arms of the officers, nor their 
private horses or baggage. Each officer and man 
will be allowed to return to their homes, not to be 
disturbed by the United States authorities so long 
as they observe their paroles and the laws in force 
where they may reside.^^ 

Still marching onward in my mission of my love 
for freedom and keeping close and quick step to 
the music of the Great Republic, I rose again in 
soul, heart and pride, as I stood on the deck of the 
Olympia, fronting Manila and the Spanish navy, 
and heard the great 

303 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 
ADMIRAL GEORGE DEWEY 

say: '^When you are ready, fire, Gridley!" 

In an hour the royal navy of Spain was at the 
bottom of the sea, and over the citadel of Manila 
waved the Stars and Stripes, a hope and a blessing 
to the Philippine Islands. 

I stood on the turrets of Morro Castle, Havana, 
as the devilish Weyler sailed away from the beau- 
tiful "Queen of the Antilles," and wondered that 
the cruel, infernal, tyrannical wretch was not ig- 
nominiously slaughtered by some of the victims of 
his starvation reign. A rattlesnake-cobra-taran- 
tula human deformity! 

It is not the plutocracy of wealth, or the aris- 
tocracy of learning, but the democracy of the 
heart that makes the world better and greater. 

Selfishness, cupidity and greed lead to tyranny, 
and tyranny finally destroys itself. 

Down with the villains who would enslave the 
people ! 

■Dose them, quick, with leaden pills — 
Only cure for tyrant ills! 

And on the heights of San Juan I beheld the 
American troops, white and black, shoot the cruel 
Spaniard into defeat, and last, but not least, I 
stood on the prow of the Oregon and beheld the 
most destructive naval engagement of the century. 

"Santiago was a captains^ fight>" and, as Admiral 
Schley said: "There is glory enough for all." 

Schley, Sampson, Cook, Clarke, Evans, Taylor 

304 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

and Wainwright shall be remembered down the 
ages with Paul Jones, Decatur, Porter and Farra- 
gut ; and with them the great Arctic hero. Admiral 
George W. Melville. 

The monarchy of Spain that once ruled the west- 
ern world has been swept off the seas, and does not 
own an inch of land on the American Continent. 

I personally participated, with my soldier com- 
rades, in the inauguration ceremonies of the lofty 
Lincoln, the glorious Garfield and the magnanimous 
McKinley, and heard their burning words of pa- 
triotism delivered from the east front of the 
National Capitol. 

And again it was my melancholy duty to march 
with the Grand Army of the Eepublic in the 
funeral train that took their assassinated remains 
to lie in state under the dome of the Capitol for 
the last view of the people upon the calm coun- 
tenance of these illustrious Americans. 

The greatest characters of earth vanish away and 
are forgotten like the mists of the morning. 

^'The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power. 
And all that beauty, all that wealth ere gave. 
Await alike the inevitable hour — 
The paths of glory lead but to the grave" 

And now bestriding the Isthmus beneath the 
Stars and Stripes, with my right foot at Colon and 
left foot at Panama, I watch the digging of the 
interocean canal, with the High Priest Koosevelt 
joining the Atlantic and Pacific oceans in eternal 
wedlock, where the commerce of the globe shall 
float equal and free forever ! 

305 



Shakspere: Personal Recollections 

Congregated at the World's Fair at St. Louis, 
the grandest exposition of the globe, I see passing 
in review the men and women of all nations, where 
art, science, letters, manufacture, commerce and 
government power reveal the wonders of man's 
handiwork. 

And now, navigating the circumambient air in 
an electric ship, I'll sail away to the "Island of 
Immortality," and dream a season from my multi- 
farious labors. 

Til go swinging round the circle 
Through six hundred future years. 
With the roses and the myrtle 
Growing in celestial spheres; 
And sweet Freedom, heaven slated 
Round my footsteps, night and day. 
When I am incarnated — 
Shall still hold its deathless sway! 
And great Shahspere then shall meet me 
To renew our former youth. 
And exclaim with honest fervor — 
''JacTc, you always told the truth!" 



THE END. 



30^ 




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